The Lines Between
by TheComplex
Summary: Revenge blinds. Tempers simmer close to the surface when the Enterprise is interrupted from their much-needed break. Accusations are thrown about, misunderstandings are made, and mysteries are uncovered. Post "The Enterprise Incident." K,S,M friendship.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fanfiction, hope you enjoy it.

Unfortunately, I do not own Star Trek.

The Lines Between

By Delmantheevil

It had been a brutal mission.

The ship seemed to be creaking along. She had been tossed around quite a bit to be sure, and was in desperate need of a repair crew and a nice long break.

Along with her entire crew.

It seemed that everyone aboard the Enterprise had aged about ten years after their last mission, you could almost feel their yearning, nearly a pulling current, a desperate need for a break.

But they couldn't do it. The ship was demanding the full attention of the crew after their last fiasco of a mission, and hardly any of them were able to receive the much needed rest. Yet there was a growing excitement in the air, soon they would reach Outpost 6 were they would finally—_finally_ be able to just sit back, rest, and catch up with reality.

Much of the crew was in the rec. room sharing a meal, and chatting excitedly (albeit tiredly) together to celebrate the beginning of their break when the Enterprise finally pulled into dock. The moment the ship was secured there was smattering of whooping and cheering throughout the ship and the rumble of many legs burdened down with belongings headed towards the exits and their promised rest.

This was to be a transfer station for the Enterprise. Those who wished to be transferred, who had been called for duty in other places, the wounded aboard the ship, and those whose time aboard this ship was over would be taken to their future destinations the next day by craft. Four days later the new recruits would arrive to take their place. After about three days to get to know the ship well enough, and for the rest of the crew of the Enterprise to have a nice leave, they would all return to the ship again for their next assignment.

Captain Kirk was trying to making the best of his break; he had been one of the last to exit the Enterprise, making sure everything was in order, organizing a repair crew on the base to be working during their leave, and signing numerous forms, about seven of which he couldn't recall signing at all later. But finally now he was sitting comfortably in a small bar after two days of luxurious nothing. Bones was sitting across from him, but he wasn't looking at Jim. His head was tilted slightly as he eyed a particularly attractive waitress serving the table two away from them. Jim smiled to himself. Bones was usually good company on the ship, but when they came to bars like this he tended to get a little distracted.

He wished Spock would take leave for once, but of course, it wasn't logical. He only needed one day off to rest the whole day, and then it was back to the ship to over see repairs. Of course he would never take off a day strictly for _himself_, what would anyone gain from him doing something _fun_ for once? It was simply _unthinkable_.

And he knew exactly what Spock would do if he was hearing all this, he'd raise his eyebrow and give Jim that look. Honestly, Kirk had never met anyone who could communicate so much with such simple looks. He remembered when he'd first taken command of the Enterprise. From all he knew and had heard about Vulcans, he had been expecting a cold, expressionless, emotionless computer who would, even if he wasn't trying to, act as if he were superior to every being aboard the ship.

But then he met Spock for the first time.

At first everything went as expected, they had been introduced, Kirk telling the taller man that he was delighted to serve with a Vulcan, and how he hoped they would get along well together. When he was finished he noticed the Vulcan tilt his head the slightest bit to the side and seemed to be considering him carefully. "You were the cadet who successfully beat the Kobyashi Maru test?" It wasn't a question, but his voice was curious.

"I'm flattered the way you put it Mr. Spock," Kirk had answered, smiling, "many have called it simply cheating."

"It was a cheat indeed. However, the fact that you found a solution to a no win situation, even if the solution was a cheat, is….fascinating."

Kirk had been very taken aback after this statement. He had been under the impression that Vulcans felt no emotion, including fascination. Not only that, but this seemed to be the most expressive Vulcan in the galaxy. Kirk considered him with a glance. He _looked _like a Vulcan, but there was something about his eyes……they were different, kinder.

"Well, Mr. Spock, it would be a pleasure to discuss this with you some other time, but now I believe I should continue my tour of the ship." He glanced around. "It is going to be my home for quite a while now, isn't it?"

Spock inclined his head ever so slightly towards him."Of course, captain. I shall see you on the bridge."

He had found out later from his records that Spock was half-human, it helped make more sense of the whole thing, but also seemed to make him more curious. Since that conversation, all Kirk wanted to do was figure his unique first officer out. The more he spent time with him the more his fondness grew, and the more he relied on Spock for his input and advice.

They seemed the perfect match for each other, Jim ready and willing to bound off a cliff without being able to see what was on the other side, and Spock there to grab him by the shoulder and pull him back, or give him an extra boost across, and then willingly let him have the glory when he reached the other side. He was even there to grab him by the arm and pull him back up when he did fall.

And there could be no one else matched for brains with Spock, his logical Vulcan mind providing him with incredible solutions to problems that could not be matched by humans. Yet the human side provided him with the intuition and original thinking much needed by a Starfleet commander.

Their chemistry was nearly perfect, their command together even better. It was as if they knew and understood each others own thoughts. Together they seemed truly unbeatable, a reputation which was well known throughout Starfleet.

Their last mission had been a test of all the trust they had built. Their mission was to find a certain Romulan vessel which was rumored to have a cloaking device aboard. He and Spock were ordered to plan a ruse to, in any way possible, gain possession of that device and capture the ship containing it. Their plan involved Spock winning the female captain's trust by betraying the ship via providing the Romulans with information concerning Starfleet and killing his own captain in cold blood. Spock would then occupy the captain while Jim beamed aboard disguised as a Romulan to steal the cloaking devise. Everything had gone so smoothly, it had almost felt real.

_Too_ real.

In order for Spock to "kill" Kirk, Jim would first have to attack Spock, which could only happen after Kirk had accused Spock of betrayal. He had screamed at him for being a traitor, and told him that he had never been his friend. He had done too good of a job. He would never forget the way Spock winced, even the thought that Spock knew he didn't mean any of it didn't help much. Kirk had known _exactly_ what to yell at Spock during that conversation, _exactly_ which points of weakness to hit.

And it killed him to do it.

He couldn't help but wonder if maybe this was the reason why Spock wasn't taking shore leave with them, even though he knew Spock almost never took leave anyways. Somehow, it seemed, while Spock had known full well it was all a ruse, it had still caused him to doubt himself. Everything that he feared most, Kirk had used, and now, it seemed, he wondered whether that was what Kirk had been truly thinking all along, otherwise, how would he have known? Now he was withdrawing himself, trying to keep out of Kirk's way.

It hurt Jim horribly to have to say all those things, but it hurt even more that Spock was reacting this way. Didn't he trust him enough to understand that he was, and always would be, his friend?

SNAP.

Jim started and looked up quickly.

Bones was staring at him with one eyebrow up, his fingers still in front of Jim's face. "Well, someone's distracted tonight." He drawled.

"Hmm, you weren't exactly paying attention yourself, Bones." Jim smiled glancing over at the waitress now serving a table closer to theirs.

"Well what else is there to do at a bar like this?"

"Conversation, drinks………hm, you're right."

"And you were certainly helping to keep me occupied in your talkative state."

"Alright, alright, you win." Jim said, throwing his hands up in defeat.

McCoy looked pleased with himself, "Well, it's not every day I win is it? I think this calls for another round."

Jim grinned and sat up straighter. He would have plenty of time to sort through all this later, now he needed a nice long break to clear his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry this took so long, I had kind of a struggle with this chapter. Enjoy. Reviews are appreciated, constructive criticism is tolerated .

The Lines Between: Chapter Two

By Delmantheevil

He hadn't had time to do manual work like this for a while.

He had always enjoyed it, even as a child he could sit for hours putting something together. He had often done this when there was much on his mind. Multi-tasking had never been a problem for him, and while his hands were busy his mind would drift off. He had come to several resolutions in his life this way, it was an easy way for him to concentrate and sift through his problems bit by bit. But lately he had been so busy with…..everything, he didn't have time for things like this.

The Enterprise had been damaged mildly during their last mission, and Spock had, naturally, volunteered to stay aboard to oversee the repairs.

The repair crew was very small. The outpost they were now stationed at was not large, it was meant mostly for momentary stationing. Here they provided supplies for damaged starships, and hotels and bars for the tired crew and new ranks. There wasn't much else to the station other than the dock which held no other starships than theirs and a few shuttle crafts. Only three-hundred crewmembers manned this station, which didn't leave many to spare for repair help. With a third of their own crew now transferred and headed towards their new stations, they needed as much help as they could get.

One of the science stations had been damaged. Spock had ordered the skimpy group of mechanics off to work in engineering (the part of the ship that needed the most help) while he worked on getting things in order in the laboratory by himself.

Now he was there, working with in the swift and smooth manner one could only connect to Vulcans.

He had been offered a week break, but he had refused.

When he was a child his father had taught him the four things he thought most important in life. Discipline, duty, logic, and truth. 'Never waste even a moment' was pounded into his skull. He had learned to work hard and to concentrate on what he was doing. He learned logic and customs from his father and resourcefulness from his mother.

At school, his teachers were skeptical of him from the beginning, they had jumped to the conclusion that he would be a wild, rebellious half-human child. This constant reflex impression was an ever-present blockade he had to overcome. As he grew, he began to show great potential in the field of science, and many of his professors were impressed by his logical thinking and original ideas. His professors' respect for him grew, but others were still unconvinced. This barrier of automatic judgment constantly pushed against his weakest point.

Emotion.

He felt it, though he'd like to deny it. He had struggled for years to push out all emotion, but it seemed he would always slip. It was one of those slips that caused him to join Starfleet.

Suddenly he was thrown into a world full of emotion. At first it was hard for him even to walk the halls and feel the emotional pressure all around him, pressing against his fragile mental shields. He had to focus at all times on them, working to keep them in place. But after awhile it seemed he had become immune somehow, or at least he didn't have to focus so much anymore.

It was still extremely difficult to live in a world the opposite of everything he had worked so hard to become. At times it felt as if he was being ripped and torn apart from the inside, a constant conflict in his soul. Here he was, a half-Vulcan raised with all the teachings of logic and emotion-shunning of Vulcan hammered into his brain, amongst a group of humans who thrived on it.

He had seen the way emotion had an effect on humans, the horrible mistakes some made because of their feelings. He swore he would not allow his emotions to get in the way of any decisions he made.

But they were still there, no matter how he tried. He had shoved them to the side, ignoring them. He had tried harder and harder to be the Vulcan his father had wanted him to be.

Sometimes a little too hard.

The judgmental barrier was still in place as well, this time in the reverse. His human teachers and colleagues assumed him to be cold and machine-like and so treated him as such. He had no guidance, and his struggling behavior often triggered a strong negative reaction from those who didn't understand him. He had come to the conclusion that he would never understand human emotion, and that it was a complete and total negative force.

But then he met Jim Kirk. That was the first time the thought ever crossed his mind that perhaps emotion could be used for the positive. He realized after only a few days with his new captain that emotion, when harnessed, could be used as a powerful asset.

He had been curious about this new discovery. He had studied it by watching his captain, and they had become close. The closer they got, the more comfortable around emotion he had become.

And that was why he had failed.

He had fooled himself into the illusion that maybe he would be able to understand emotion. He had become nearly comfortable with it, and had been on the verge of destroying everything he had built over his lifetime. He would not have realized it had it not been for their last mission, only then had he realized how deep in he really was.

Kirk knew everything. He knew exactly what to say, and he knew all of his weaknesses, and worst of all Spock had no idea how much he really knew.

He had messed up big time. He had thought he could keep his Vulcan identity and control in place while he experimented and explored human emotion, but he was wrong. When Kirk had yelled at him, he had known the anger was fake, but in that moment he had imagined, only for a moment, what it would be like if it was all true. And he had reacted emotionally.

In that moment he was faced with all the fears and insecurities of his lifetime, it overwhelmed him. It had been hard to breathe much less remember what he was supposed to say. That logical side of his brain was screaming at him that he was going to blow the plan.  
He had caught himself just in time. He was brought back to reality by the knowledge that this was their mission, their duty; the knowledge that Jim was not really accusing him.

It was only later, back safely on the bridge, that he realized the full extent of the damage. He, a Vulcan, had been influenced by his emotions and had put his crew and the entire of Starfleet in danger because of it.

He let his guard down. He had let his emotions influence him. He had failed as a Vulcan. He understood now that he truly knew nothing about emotion, and yet he was showing it himself.

After Jim had yelled at him, he had understood just exactly how much he had fallen. He tried to imagine how he might have reacted if the whole scenario had been real. If he had not been prepared to hear what Jim was going say……….he shivered. And Jim had read him perfectly, as if he had never suppressed his emotions. How many could see through him now? He was weak.

In a way he was thankful for the mission, it had brought light to the building problem he had not even known was there. This had been his biggest slip of all, and now he must try to repair the damage.

But he could not do it while the captain was around.

He did not understand. He could build up his shields all he wanted to, be as cold and unfeeling as possible, but the moment the captain walked in the door, everything was gone and he was standing there completely defenseless against Jim's irresistible charm.

This was the perfect time, though. Jim would be away on shore leave for at least a week, and he saw this as a perfect opportunity. During this week he would have to concentrate, and build up his shields so strong, that even Kirk would not be able to break them. He could not have this happen again.

Oh, he wouldn't sever all ties with Jim, how could he? They were around each other almost all the time, he couldn't just leave whenever he walked into the room.

A tiny voice in the back of his head suggested that maybe he didn't want to leave either, but he shoved it away.

He simply needed to make the distinction that Kirk was his superior officer only. Nothing more.

A few days ago he had been under the impression that he and Jim Kirk were a little more than just fellow officers, but now he was unsure…. He understood nothing about emotion, so how could he be sure he hadn't completely misread Jim's behavior? Perhaps his captain was trying to give him some subtle hint, perhaps he _was_ sick and tired of him following around like he had said…..

Then he would not.

It was a simple enough solution, but one that, for some reason, made his chest tighten painfully.

He would do nothing but what was necessary from now on. He would comply with personal invitations from others if they were ever given but he would never force his company on anyone again.

Especially his captain.

Spock realized that he was squeezing the bolt in his hand with more strength than necessary.

Way more strength, it had bent completely.

He sighed. Once again he was letting his emotions get in the way of his work.

Suddenly he heard the swish of the laboratory door opening.

He jumped to his feet to see Scotty approaching him. Scotty looked very uncomfortable, almost guilty. He stopped right in front of Spock and opened his mouth, then closed it again, fidgeting from foot to foot.

"Er…..Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Mr. Scott?"

"I…..er.." And it all came out in a rush, "I'd like to join the repair team, if ye don't mind."

Spock had to work very hard to stop from raising his eyebrow.

When they had reached the dock, Scotty had sworn this time he would spend his entire leave in leisure, talking with great conviction about how he would have a grand time, get rested, and not step one foot aboard the Enterprise the whole week. But here he was, on only the third day, begging to be brought back.

"Your technical and mechanical skills would be duly appreciated at this time, Mr. Scott." He said, nodding slightly.

Scotty's face light up, appreciating no sarcastic comments, but more excited to be back to his work.

"Thank ye, sir, ye won't be disappointed. Oh, eh, where should I should start, sir?" he straightened up, becoming more serious.

"Engineering would appear to be in the most need of your repair work."

"Aye, I'll get down there now, then." And he was off, Spock almost expecting him to skip away in his joy.

As he exited, another unfamiliar figure in gold uniform entered. He looked uncertain at first, but when he spotted Spock he became more confident and approached him with conviction.

He stopped directly in front of him and stood strait in a salute.

"Ensign Rikes requesting permission to come aboard, sir."

This time Spock did raise his eyebrow, "You have been transferred here for assignment?"

"Yes, sir," He said, not missing a beat, "First placement aboard a starship, sir."

"I was under the impression that the new recruits would be arriving tomorrow."

"That's true sir, but I was already stationed here on this outpost. It was my second Starfleet assignment before I was ordered to join the Enterprise when it docked."

Spock stared at him for a moment,

"You have checked in with security and been assigned quarters?"

"Yes sir, I was told to report to you."

"You are in Engineering, what is you specialty?"

"Electronic engineering, sir. Mainly transportation."

Spock considered him with a glance. He was a young man of average height with dark skin and equally dark hair and eyes. He wasn't someone who looked terribly interesting or unique, but he was wearing a very determined look on his face as he awaited his direction.

"Very well, ensign. You must be curious about this ship, report down to engineering. I will have Mr. Scott assign you a guide to give you a tour of the ship. After you have familiarized yourself with the ship, you may do as you wish on the outpost until-."

"If you don't mind, sir," The ensign cut him off, "I'd like to join the repair crew."

Spock stared at him for a moment. Indeed, he was determined.

"Very well, ensign. Your help would be deeply appreciated. However, may I enquire as to your motivations for volunteering?"

The ensign paused for a moment, then answered. "I have been stuck on this base for over four months, commander. I think I've seen enough of it."

Spock nodded. "I understand. You are dismissed."

"Thank you sir." The ensign breathed, and then turned to leave the room. Spock watched him go, then turned to resumed his work.

By the time he had finished, it had gotten late. He greeted the thought of a night's rest with open arms, for some reason he felt unreasonably tired. His body felt strained, and he desperately needed time to meditate.

He puts his tools back in their proper place, and was heading for the door when it flashed open itself and ensign Norav came running through it looking desperate.

"Sir, you are requested on the bridge! Admiral Kean has contacted us with an urgent message from Starfleet Command!"

Spock fell in step with ensign as they both headed towards the doors and then the lift.

"When did the Admiral first contact us?" Spock asked, walking at a fast pace.

"2210 hours, sir. I suggest we hurry, he was quite angry there were no qualified officers on the bridge to receive his message."

Spock nodded and changed his pace to a run.

This couldn't be good.

A.N. Ok, for those of you who might be a little confused, Kirk was kind of wrong in his observations about why Spock might be avoiding him. He's half right, but he missed a totally different (and even more important) motive. Just needed to clear that up, I even confused myself for a while there .


	3. Chapter 3

The Lines Between

Chapter 3

By Delmantheevil

Angry had been an understatement.

Spock had heard about Admiral Kean's short temper before, but he'd never actually seen it in action.

The Admiral's face was truly horrible to behold, no wonder Mr. Norav had been so boggled. His face was one big blotch of red, his mouth was twisted into a scowl, and there was sweat pouring down forehead.

As soon as Spock had entered the bridge, the Admiral's yelling ceased for a moment, and he fixed his angry, slit eyes right on him.

Spock walked calmly over to the captain's chair. Standing with his hand on the arm rest, he addressed the Admiral in a smooth, controlled voice, which he hoped would help to calm the other two very frightened-looking ensigns on the bridge.

"Is there something you wished to discuss with me, Admiral Kean?"

And then the Admiral exploded.

"Yes! This was an emergency transmission, and I'd like to know why there were no commanding officers on the bridge to receive it! These three bumbling idiots couldn't tell me anything! They did not know the proper protocol for this, and I tell you sir, someone is going to hear about this! This is an outrage, do you hear me!?"

He continued his angry babble, and Spock felt a wave of pity for three ensigns who had been left on the bridge.

"—and I can tell you now, they will never reach rank higher than a jr. lieu-."

"Sir," Spock began pleasantly, "was there something of actual importance that you wished to discuss with me?"

Kean turned a brilliant shade of magenta. He looked as if he wanted to yell something more but only a strangled sound came out.

Spock waited patiently as the Admiral stared at him in furious disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like some strange, purple fish. Then, finally, the Admiral seemed to remember the reason why he had called on them in the first place, and his face returned back to simple bright red.

"You'll regret that, sir." He breathed heavily, trying to regain his composure. Then finally he got to the point. "I've been ordered by Starfleet to deliver this message. Outpost 13 has been destroyed."

Out of the corner of his eye, Spock saw the three ensigns look at each other warily. Outpost 13 wasn't far from where they were.

"Do they know who was behind the attack?" Spock asked, but he had a pretty good idea of who it was already.

"Romulans." There was no anger in the Admirals face now. It was back to business. "Starfleet received a code red emergency transmission from them three hours ago. They said they had been attacked by Romulans without any warning. They wouldn't negotiate with them or tell them their reasons for attacking. It cut off before they could report how many."

Spock paused and considered what he had just heard.

"How many people occupied the station?"

"Five-hundred and forty. As far as we know, none survived."

There was a moment of silence on the bridge. The officer near the science station whispered something unintelligible, his voice anguished.

"The loss is…..deeply regretted, Admiral….. I would like to-."

"I didn't contact you to hear your condolences, Commander!" Kean exploded again. "The Enterprise is ordered to get underway, and intercept the Romulans who attacked and destroyed Outpost 13. You will capture their vessel or vessels, and bring them back as prisoners to stand trial-."

"Sir, at the moment the Enterprise is being repaired," Spock interrupted, "also her crew is exhausted, we have just finished a-"

"Orders are orders, Mr. Spock." The Admiral rasped, cutting across him, "You are the only Starship in the area capable of handling this situation."

"Sir, I must disagree with these orders. One-third of the Enterprise crew is absent, the remaining have just finished a grueling mission, the ship is damaged, and also sir, we have no idea what we are up against. The safest way to proceed would be to send a smaller, faster ship to the area to scout out the enemy ships while-."

At that moment the bridge doors opened and ensign Rikes walked through it.

"Sir, Mr. Scott reports that—Oh." He saw the Admiral on the screen and Spock obviously in the middle of receiving orders and turned crimson. "I—I apologize, sir. Mr. Scott reports the damages to the main engines are repaired, we are now capable of warp speed. Also the damaged phaser banks are now in working order."

The Admiral grinned.

"Ah, not as weakened as you were letting on then, Mr. Spock." He sneered. "You have no choice. Soon the Romulans responsible will cross back over the neutral zone into Romulan territory where we cannot get to them. Your exact orders will be sent over and you will be expected to be heading out in two hours. Happy sailing, Mr. Spock"

And then the screen went black before he could say anything more.

The room was completely quiet for a moment as the shock of the whole situation set in.

Spock turned towards the officers on the bridge. The ensign near the science station had collapsed into a chair, staring into space. He was in shock. Mr. Norav had his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"His cousin was working on Outpost 13 as an engineer." He explained in a dead voice.

Spock looked at the two of them for a moment, then moved into action.

"Mr. Donovan," He ordered, turning towards the officer manning Communications, "I want you to inform the crew of the situation and make sure they report back here immediately. If there are any questions, you are to tell them this is an emergency and further questions will be answered on board. Mr. Norav, please take Mr. Jiason down to sickbay, then help Mr. Donovan."

He paused. Someone needed to inform the captain of their situation right away.

"Mr. Rikes, you are familiar with this base?"

"Yes sir, I am." Rikes answered. He didn't look happy about that fact.

"Then I must order you to find where Captain Kirk is and inform him of our situation. Tell him he is needed aboard the ship right away."

"Yes, sir!"

Spock punched the communicator button.

"Spock to engineering."

"Engineering. Mr. Scott here."

"An emergency has arisen, Mr. Scott. I need you to ready the ship for leaving the dock."

"But--Mr. Spock, what-." There was a pause. "Aye sir. I'll have 'er ready."

Spock turned and looked around the empty bridge. He had a bad feeling about the whole thing, but when were his feelings ever right?

He would have to oversee the proceeds until the captain came aboard. He would not get a chance to rest or meditate tonight. He would not get a chance to build up his shields like he had been counting on. He would not get a chance to do any of the things he had planned on doing during this leave.

In minutes, the entire recalled crew of the Enterprise would be thinking the exact same thing.

---View Switch---

He was sitting on the bridge.

It had always been the place he felt the most comfortable, when he looked around and saw his fellow officers and comrades at their posts, it was as if all was right with the world.

They all worked together as a group to make the ship move, to travel, to explore, and therefore no one person could take the credit for all they had accomplished. It made them a family.

He turned to look at Scotty, and received a grin back. He looked over at Bones, standing next to Uhura and got his classic, half-hearted smile. Chekov and Sulu were talking and laughing while they worked directly in front of him. He smiled to himself and looked over at the Science Station.

But Spock wasn't there.

He looked around the bridge. No First Officer. He had never known Spock to neglect his command or take a sick day.

_Where is he?_

He stood up and walked over to Dr. McCoy.

"Bones, is Spock okay?" He asked, wondering if he'd been injured somehow.

McCoy raised his eyebrow slightly.

"Spock?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Where is he?" He was getting impatient.

Bones looked confused.

"Who?"

"_Spock_, Bones!" Kirk almost yelled at him. What was Bones trying to pull?

McCoy looked around.

"I, uh, I don't know who--, listen Jim, why don't you come down to sickbay, and we can talk about this there. You look tired."

He was talking in that soothing voice he often used with small children or mentally unstable patients.

"Bones, that's enough! Stop messing around and tell me where he is!"

"Jim I—I don't know who you're talking about!"

"Oh, you know," Kirk drawled sarcastically, "about this tall," he motioned with his hand, "Vulcan, or as you like to call him, hobgoblin."

McCoy was starting to look very concerned now.

"Your sworn enemy! Our science officer!"

Bones looked more confused than ever.

"Science officer? What's that?"

Kirk looked at him, dumbfounded.

"It's what that station is for." He said, pointing at the Science Station.

McCoy looked over where he was pointing.

"Nobody works over there."

"Then why is it there?!" Kirk yelled, throwing up his arms in frustration.

Bones considered this.

"Hey, you're right. I guess we don't need it."

He reached into shirt and pulled out a detonator.

Kirk's eyes widened.

"Bones, what are you—."

But McCoy pushed the button on the top before he could do anything.

The whole left side of the bridge exploded where the Science Station had been. Kirk covered his eyes against the flying debris.

When he opened them again, there was a gapping hole in the side of the bridge. The entire Science Station had disappeared, leaving in its place millions of sparkling stars and an eerie, black sky staring back at him.

"BONES!!!" Kirk screamed.

What was going on?!

But Bones was gone. Everyone was gone. And he was all alone on the bridge. And there was someone banging on the doors……….

"Captain! Captain!"

He was ripped from his vision of an infinity of stars, and back into the dark haze of his hotel room.

"Captain! Sir! Are you there, sir?!"

Kirk struggled groggily to get out of his bed. His covers seemed to be holding on to him.

Finally he was up. He clicked the panel on his hotel wall to open the door. When it swooshed open, the officer on the outside tumbled into the room. It took him a moment to straighten up and catch his breath.

"Ensign Rikes, sir!"

Kirk blinked a couple of times. He seemed to be having trouble gathering his thoughts, but he had found that he was usually able to turn on his authoritative manner on demand. Even standing in his boxers.

"Is there something I can help you with, ensign?"

"Yes, sir, there is. I've been sent by Commander Spock, he says you're needed aboard the Enterprise immediately."

Kirk straightened up, transitioning into captain mode.

"Did he say what the problem was?"

"Emergency transmission from Starfleet, sir. We are ordered to assist."

Kirk nodded.

"I will accompany you back then, Mr. Rikes. Could I ask you to step outside for a minute? I will be ready momentarily."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Kirk began to dress and grab his belongings quickly.

He needed information immediately. This was unexpected, and his need as a captain to get in control of the situation was kicking in.

He grabbed the last of his things and ran out the door, the ensign following him closely behind.

**A.N. Hey everybody, hope you enjoyed this chapter. I got past my sortawriter'sblock and now it's all flowing a little easier. If you like it, please review! If you don't like, please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

The Lines Between: Chapter 4

By Delmantheevil

"Pavel!"

Chekov jerked his head up to see Sulu and Uhura grinning and waving at him from the other side of the crowded bar. He smiled back and signaled for them to come over, his pulse quickening in mounting excitement.

They had been planning this for months.

It wasn't every day they were on leave for a week. Almost never, in fact. They had agreed that tonight he, Sulu, Uhura, and Scotty would all meet up here, and they were going to drink, and laugh, and…..well…drink.

Uhura had taken some convincing, but eventually she had agreed to go along with it just this once. They were going to party all night, and completely forget duty, completely forget that they served in Starfleet, and if they were lucky, their names. Then in the morning, they would all crash, and there would be no regrets and no one there to yell at them.

It was, of course, something they would probably never do again, but they were going to do it tonight. It was going to be perfect, and they were _going to do it_.

They were.

There were to be no excuses this time. They had planned it all out perfectly, and nothing was going to get in the way.

They were going to ignore the fact that every time they had planned this in the past, something had gone wrong and they had to reschedule only to be interrupted again the next time. They were going to ignore the fact that Starfleet seemed to love to bother _them_ in particular at _exactly_ the moment they had planned something. Of course, nothing bad _ever_ happened when they had nothing to do.

Perhaps the only reason they planned something so absurd was because it was so unlikely to ever happen.

It was as if the Enterprise had some horrible curse. It was always in the right place at the right time for something to go wrong.

But this time, it was going to be different.

Uhura and Sulu finally reached the table Chekov and saved for them, and fell into their seats.

"How long you been here, Pav?" Sulu asked him as Uhura leaned over to give him a hug.

"Ah, not too long." Chekov answered, then suddenly scanned the bar. "Ver is Mr. Scott?"

"He isn't coming," Sulu said, then he broke out in a smile, "he couldn't stand it. I guess you won the bet, Ny."

"Of course I did." Uhura beamed.

Everyone who knew Montgomery Scott best understood that with him, the only thing that could win out over drinks was his baby.

Their laughter was just dying away when Chekov asked the question.

"Should ve order some dreenks?"

There table became suddenly quiet as they all, in turn, locked eyes with each other.

No communicator beepers went off.

No one approached their table to interrupt them.

No lightening bolted down from the sky to destroy the pub.

Nothing.

Then Sulu broke though the apprehensive silence.

"Let's do this."

And all three broke into huge smiles.

A few minutes later, Uhura raised her glass above the middle of the table.

"To the crew of the Enterprise."

Sulu lifted his glass.

"To shore leave."

And then a voice boomed across the loudspeaker.

"_Attention all Starfleet personnel, this is an emergency recall: if you have been serving or have been commissioned to serve aboard the Enterprise you are ordered to return to your ship __**immediately**__ for duty. Repeat: This is a code red situation, all commissioned Enterprise officers report to their assigned stations immediately."_

They stared at each other in ironic disbelief, each waiting for the other to burst out on an angry rampage.

Instead all three burst out laughing.

Struggling to catch their breath from the hysterical, almost impossible, nature of their forever-hopeless situation, they grabbed their coats and exited the table, leaving their drinks untouched once again.

**A.N. I know, I know, this took forever. Sorry. I had a family emergency in Arizona so I've just now gotten back to my writing. As for the shortness, well, there was actually a whole other section to it, but I decided with them both together the chapter would be to long. Anyways, I should be posting chapter 5 pretty soon. Live long and Prosper \\//.**


	5. Chapter 5

The Lines Between: Chapter 5

By Delmantheevil

"Sir, you're requested on the bridge immediately, I'll take your things to your quarters for you."

Kirk nodded and handed over his belongings to the twitchy looking ensign. He really hadn't brought much. Maybe it was because he hadn't really expected them to stay an entire week of leave. Or maybe it was because he hadn't _wanted_ to stay an entire week.

The truth was he was happy to be getting back. Sure, a day or two of rest and free time was always fine, but after that he seemed to get an itch, an itch that stayed with him and caused him to become urgent and short-tempered until he was back commanding on the bridge.

He was secretly pleased this emergency had arisen. It provided him with an excuse to get back. He'd always been one for a challenge. In fact, he wasn't sure what he would do without one. That was why the Enterprise was the perfect place for him.

He hadn't been so shocked when someone came banging on his door in the middle of the night with news of an emergency recall. It had happened before, sometimes when they'd only been docked for a few hours. Typical Starfleet.

He was almost to the bridge now, about to walk through the doors…..He had done it hundreds of times before, but every time he did, his heart always beat just a little bit faster than before and his stomach swooped. Even more so now in his elevated excitement.

As soon as he stepped through the doors, he was able to breathe normally. Finally he was back home again.

The bridge was buzzing with action and an urgency that matched his own.

Just the way he liked it.

Not much of the movement stopped when he entered the bridge, so that meant this must be something pretty big. All the better.

He approached the captain's chair where Spock was sitting. He was giving orders to three officers off of a PADD in his hand. Kirk stopped on the right side of the chair and waited for Spock to finish.

Having already sensed his captain's presence next to him, Spock exited the command chair immediately after dismissing the three engineers he had just been directing and faced his captain. Kirk opened his mouth to greet his friend, but Spock started before he could begin.

"Sir, we have a situation."

Kirk smiled.

"Really? I didn't notice."

Spock simply stared at him, seemingly unmoved by Kirk's attempted moment of humor.

Jim cleared his throat.

"Ah, what exactly is the situation, Mr. Spock?"

As Spock explained the details to him, Kirk noticed he looked tired, though he seemed determined not to show it. He seemed determined not to show anything. His voice sounded mechanical as he recounted what had happened a few hours earlier and he was looking somewhere above Kirk's left shoulder instead of directly at him.

His observations were cut short as Spock finished his unfailingly accurate recall of the situation.

"Our full orders are recorded here, sir." Spock said, handing him the PADD.

Kirk scanned over it. His stomached tightened when he read the details about the cruel destruction of Outpost 13.

Things didn't look good, but this only heightened his determination. According to their orders they needed to be on their way in 15 minutes. He pressed the communicator button.

"Bridge to Mr. Scott, Kirk here."

There was a pause.

"Mr. Scott here, Captain." Scotty greeted him, panting and sounding slightly winded.

"Scotty, we need to be underway in 15 minutes, will she be ready by then?"

"Aye, she'll be more than ready by then, sir."

"You're a saint, Scotty. Kirk out."

He turned back from the panel to give further orders when he noticed Spock was still standing behind him. The Vulcan had suddenly gone from being completely detached to wearing a strange expression Kirk didn't quite understand. He looked urgent but hesitant at the same time, like he wanted to say something but feared being lashed out at.

The expression disappeared off Spock's face when he noticed his captain was looking at him, but Kirk had seen it. And it sparked a sudden anger in him.

Hesitance. A symptom of indecision and distrust.

He had been right, then. After all the years of working together, Spock would not trust him. The fact that everything they'd built over their time together could be completely obliterated by the slightest hint of doubt…… That explained Spock's cold unresponsiveness from a few moments ago. His suspicions in the bar were now proved correct. He could feel the heat of his anger traveling up his neck and struggled to control himself.

"What's on your mind, Mr. Spock?" He managed to get out in the most normal voice he could summon.

Spock glanced around, as if checking to see if anyone was listening.

"There…is an issue of some urgency I wish to voice, sir."

The hesitance again.

Kirk, getting more and more impatient in his irritation and need to be back in the action, motioned for him to continue.

Spock straightened up, bracing himself against whatever reaction his words might trigger.

"Captain, we cannot agree to progress with this mission. We must do everything in our power to dissuade Starfleet from continuing on with this course of action."

A few heads turned in their direction and things seemed to get quieter as the bridge strained to hear their captain's response to his First Officer's suggestion.

Kirk was dumbstruck. It took him a moment to regain his face, and then the spontaneous anger flared back again, stronger than before, but he forced himself to answer in the most controlled voice he could conjure.

"Although I can't see them, Mr. Spock, I'm sure you have reasons for your suggestion. So tell me, why should we waste time trying to dissuade Starfleet?"

The reaction was very negative and Spock had to square himself again before he continued.

"My reasons support the obvious fact that the odds are not in our favor, captain. Less than two third of the crew is present, all exhausted from previous orders, and the ship has only just completed repairs, minimum repairs which have not yet been tested and would not support us long if a fight were to occur."

Kirk's flame of anger had begun to grow during this speech, taking a hold of him. Spock's argument was undeniable but he didn't care. Spock stating their low odds only made him want to beat them more, to take out his anger on the enemy and prove Spock wrong. The itch had infected him, his inexplicable need for adventure had been ignited and nothing was going to hold him back.

By now the whole bridge had stopped what they were doing to watch what was happening. Spock didn't seem to notice the shift and continued with his proposal.

"Also, sir, we do not know what we are up against, the mission overview gave no clue as to the amount of ships we will be facing, only that it was powerful enough to destroy an entire outpost. We may not have the weapon capacity to overcome their--."

But Kirk had had enough of the stalling.

"Well, Mr. Spock, I've heard your reasoning, but I think you can trust, if you can," Kirk said bitterly, "that we can handle the situation. Even if we take up time trying to convince Starfleet we should stay here, in the end they'll just tell us the same thing because, as you know, we are the only Starship close enough to reach them in time."

Kirk began to turn away signaling that this was the end of the discussion, but Spock tried again.

"Captain, we _must_ try to persuade them. If we continue there is a 64.1259% chance we will fail. We must find some other way to proceed, it is only logical that we--."

"You see that's your problem, Mr. Spock!" Kirk yelled, rounding on Spock, his fury boiling over. He advanced forward so he was face to face with his stunned First Officer. "You're too logical! You don't care if people are being murdered! You don't care if others are in danger, or hurt, or dying! You don't care what others are feeling because you are incapable of it! All you care about is doing things the correct and proper way! Now, Mr. Spock, you have two simple choices: you can stay and carry out your duties without continually questioning my rationality, or you can leave."

Spock seemed to be frozen in place, his body rigid, obvious pain and shock carved on his features. But it was only a moment, and then it was all gone. His face went completely devoid of all expression. Empty. You could almost see the icy wall that had emerged, surrounding him, cutting him off. The rigidity left his body and he stood up straight to face his commanding officer, his face now completely impassive.

"I will remain here, sir." He said, his voice dead.

Kirk nodded, his anger beginning to simmering down.

"Then return to your post, Commander."

Spock turned and walked mechanically back to the science station. Kirk looked around the bridge. There was utter shock and fear written on almost everyone's face from the outburst they had just witnessed.

It made his stomach drop.

Discord before a mission. A loss of control by the captain in front of the crew.

It brought him back to his senses like a knife to his gut.

There was an absolute silence. A chill seemed to have enveloped the entire bridge. It hit Kirk the hardest. The cold horror of what he had just done wrapping its icy fingers around him. But there was nothing he could do now, he could only hope that the damage he had just inflicted could somehow be repaired.

He tensely ordered everyone to turn their attention back to their duties and was obeyed immediately, then called Mr. Scott for an overview in Engineering. Scotty reported they were ready to move out in an inappropriately cheery voice.

Everyone on the bridge was working in eerie silence now, afraid to speak. Kirk slumped into the captain's chair, feeling numb, then pressed the communicator button on the arm again to broadcast to the entire ship. He explained the situation to the confused and, no doubt, irritated crew in a robotic voice, reviewed their orders, and then apologized for the fact that they all had to be recalled on such short notice.

When he finished, he clicked off the speaker. There was still a heavy silence pressing down on the bridge, but some of the party had begun to whisper to each other.

Kirk stood up and the bridge went silent again, glancing at him warily. He cleared his throat, then addressed the helmsmen sitting directly in front of him.

"Mr. Sulu, Mr. Chekov. Take us out."

Kirk couldn't remember a time when they'd left a dock in such a dank, grim state. He sat back down rigidly in his chair. There was no joy in getting back now; there was no more infectious itch. The fire had been extinguished by another, more powerful source this time.

**A.N. I had a great time writing this chapter because I love torturing my characters (as you will see as the story progresses). It might be a while before my next update, but I will get it to you, I promise…..unless I die or some horrible, life-altering event occurs in my life (which actually might help me by adding to my writer's salad bar of emotional tidbits). Anyways, hope you liked it. Tich tor ang tesmur \\//.**


	6. Chapter 6

The Lines Between: Chapter 6

By Delmantheevil

Leonard McCoy had a scowl on his face.

Well, he was usually wearing one anyways, but this time he really had a reason for his grumpy expression. It had been about ten o'clock pm when Jim had left him alone at the bar. Actually, it had been the doctor himself who suggested Jim go back to the hotel to get some sleep, the man was very preoccupied by something and seemed restless. So, being the world's most thoughtful friend that he was, he had excused Jim from fulfilling his social duties that night. Jim had agreed, sounding grateful, again telling McCoy he just had a lot on his mind.

Bones regretted telling Jim to leave about five minutes after he had gone. At least when Jim was here, he'd had someone to sit opposite to, even if they weren't talking much. So he had ordered some drinks for himself. Now, being a doctor, he knew the health dangers that came with drinking, but he usually chose to ignore his own advice when it came to this particular subject.

About 1/4 of the way through his drinks he had started to flirt with the waitress who was serving him. Then he began to talk overly loudly to the costumers sitting around him at other tables. When he had consumed a fair share of drinks in front of him, he'd started to sing to the song playing over the speakers, and so was rapidly asked to leave. He stumbled back to his quarters at about one in the morning and crashed. It had been a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

That's probably why he was so angry to be jolted out of it by someone pounding on his door two hours later.

First he just lay there in his bed, refusing to move, but the pounding continued, causing a brilliant headache to bloom out under his skull. Then, with some considerable cursing and covers flying in every direction, he fell out of his bed and opened the door. Two Starfleet officers stumbled into his room, they opened their mouths, he supposed later to explain the situation, but he was too quick for them. He was screaming, half-drunk, half-asleep, at the two, now very disturbed looking officers before they could utter any kind of excuse at all.

He vaguely remembered them finally giving up on trying to calm him down and, each taking one of his arms, dragging him off. About half way there, he abruptly remembered he was Dr. Leonard McCoy, the Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise again and, yanking his arms away, pulling down his shirt, and muttering that he would walk by himself now if they would "Get the blazes off of him, " began on his way under his own power and with much more dignity towards the ship he knew they were bound for.

The two officers seemed incredibly relieved that he had finished his angry tirade, which had been earning them many stares, and were now walking on either side of him, still watching warily for any sign of round two.

He cleared his throat. "So, what's the deal this time?" He asked them, trying to conjure an authoritative, in control voice. He was asking partly because he wanted to know, and partly to break the awkward silence.

They seemed surprised that he was sane.

"Ar..um.." The one on his right began, obviously trying to re-gather his thoughts. "Oh, Captain Kirk sent us to get you after the recall went out and you still didn't arrive."

Well, he certainly didn't remember hearing a recall.

"He said you might be in your quarters. We'd just reported on board when he sent us back so we hardly know anything about what's going on, just that there's been a Priority One alert in our vicinity and we've been ordered to address it."

Huh, no surprise there. He was angry about another shortened leave, but in the back of his mind he'd been expecting it anyways.

He had to admit, Jim knew him pretty well; sending two guards to get him and ordering them to carry him off if he was uncooperative.

He nodded his thanks for the information to the kid curtly and picked up his pace as he shifted back into Doctor Mode, his feet carrying him faster now that they had a goal.

The ship seemed calm, dignified, and magnificent on the outside, but when they entered they discovered the inside buzzing angrily with a very frustrated, tired, and upset crew.

Apparently the Captain had just explained over the loudspeaker the reasons for the disruption of their promised rest, but for most of the crew it wasn't a good enough excuse. The place was teeming with stress, short-tempers, and exhausted crew members.

McCoy just caught the tail end of the Captain's announcement, but it didn't give him any more information about where they were going or what they were doing. He intended to march directly to the bridge to get an explanation from Jim himself but he hadn't even taken one step towards the Turbolift when he was suddenly and completely bombarded.

"Dr. McCoy, I need you to read and sign--."

"Doctor, you're need at Sickbay immediately!"

"Dr. McCoy, you're belongings will be delivered to--."

"Doctor, there's a situation which calls for your attention in hangar--."

The place was utter chaos and he was completely lost in the mob of demands. Somehow, he eventually ended up at the door of sickbay after dealing with a broken tailbone in hangar 5. He seized the narrow opportunity and was finally able to break free of his followers and stumble through the doors into Sickbay.

It wasn't much of a change, really. There were five, very beat-up looking Starfleet officers in line to be treated, and one other who appeared to be delirious and was flailing about on his cot, but almost no medical personnel were present because of the perfectly timed rotation transfer smack in the middle of this mess that was called their leave.

This day was showing great potential to be one of the worst in his life.

Doctor M'Benga and two nurses were there, all working desperately to help everyone. Apparently Nurse Chapel was occupied trying to deal with an eloquently timed equipment malfunction in her quarters, so she too was missing from their already short medical staff.

Despite the issues demanding his attention, he marched strait into his office first, locked the doors, changed into his uniform, and then gave himself two seconds of peace to prepare for the inevitable chaos before he marched back out again. Relief flooded the medical team's faces when he entered and began to take control.

The flailing man had apparently been given some kind of drug that put him in the delirious state he was in. It had been transferred through alcohol. The substance was physically harmless; maybe someone's idea of a prank, but it was obviously causing the man illusions and totally erratic behavior. McCoy gave him a sedative; he'd sleep until the effects wore off.

The beat-up officers were very sheepish when he asked them what had happened. They proceeded to tell him that, somehow, all five of them had fallen down a flight of stairs on their way to the ship. The excuse was so weak he didn't even bother with it. By examining their wounds he could tell they'd been in some sort of fist fight.

After dealing with them, he headed for the bridge, telling M'Benga to take over the now much calmer Bay on the way out. His pace quickened as the spotted the Turbolift. He _really_ needed to know what was going on. Spock would be there, too. Good. He could use a good argument to blow off some steam.

He was in the Lift now, scowling and tapping his foot impatiently as it swooshed off to his destination. Honestly, couldn't this thing go any faster?

Starfleet better have a good explanation for this untimely disruption or they were going to feel dreaded wrath of Doctor Leonard McCoy. Really, it was as if the Enterprise was the only working Starship in the entire fleet! Or maybe Starfleet Command just liked the way they operated so much, they decided the Enterprise crew should just deal with _every_ situation that came up. Yep, that would explain it, because that seemed to add up with the amount of emergency missions they'd had so far.

He'd worked himself up into a fury by the time the doors swished open and he stalked onto the deck. He was so focused on his perfectly planned rant that he didn't notice the stony silence that was settled over the entire bridge, or how almost everyone jerked their heads around at him when he entered, as if caught in the middle of something unpleasant. Or the way Jim was slumped in his command chair.

All he saw was four days of rest, lost.

"Jim, what the blazes is going on?!"

Kirk's tired expression didn't change when he answered, "We've been recalled for a mission."

"Nooo, really?" McCoy said sarcastically,"I thought we'd all been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to attend a Halloween party!"

Kirk didn't answer, he just sat staring straight ahead at the screen.

McCoy waited a few seconds, then jumped back in, "So what's your costume supposed to be, a Starship Captain? Looks fake, Jim, better luck next year."

Jim sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Bones, I _really_ don't have time for this."

"Well, there's something we have in common, but here I am anyways. So come on, let's hear it, Jim."

Kirk leaned forward and locked eyes with him, his face was dead serious. "Dr. McCoy, you belong in Sickbay, not on the bridge. You will report down there immediately."

It was not the voice of the charming, long time friend he'd only just seen last night; it was the full, demanding voice of a Starship Captain to an officer who was out of place. McCoy froze. He studied Kirk's face for the first time. He looked ten years older. Worn and aged.

His eyes flickered immediately over to the Science Station and found Spock's back bent rigidly over his computer panel. If there was one person in the world who could put Jim into this kind of state, it was Spock. His eyes flew back to Jim's face, and apparently the Captain had followed his gaze, his features somber as he spotted the object of McCoy's momentary distraction, then hardened as he looked back at McCoy.

"Jim…what's going on?" McCoy asked, his voice wary. His entire attitude had changed in a matter of seconds.

Jim stared at him for a moment, his face expressionless, then suddenly his whole body relaxed. "It's nothing, Bones. Just tired, you know." He gave a slight smile but it never reached his eyes. "look, I just really need the bridge clear for now. It's not that I don't want you here, it's just that things are a little….crazy right now. I'll have Uhura patch the complete order report down to your office, you can go over them there."

McCoy hesitated, wanting to ask more, but something told him to drop it. He turned and walked numbly towards the Turbolift. He wondered what his face looked like. Disturbed? Surprised? Confused, certainly. He had thought that when he exited the bridge, he would be a little more informed, but now he was leaving even more confused than ever. What was going on here?

_Darn this ship. _He thought. _Darn it's blasted, over-worked crew and it's stupid, friendly officers! This place is a personal issues machine-gun! This is supposed to be a federation, not TV drama!_

There was certainly something going on that was he was missing. Something in the lines, between the lines he wasn't picking up on.

He scowled as the doors opened again. Just another situation nobody would explain to him.

A.N. Sorry about the delay, I was working on getting my permit and such. Anyways please review! Constructive criticism is especially appreciated because I really want to improve! \\//


	7. Chapter 7

**Please Review!!! Feedback is very much appreciated!**

The Lines Between: Chapter 7

By Delmantheevil

The doors leading to the Rec. room opened as Christine Chapel stumbled through them. She whipped the sweat from her forehead and looked around. There weren't many people here, but this didn't surprise her. The whole ship was in a scuffle; there were repairs to be made, orders to be filled, work to oversee and not enough crew to do it, so it wasn't a mystery why this particular room wasn't exactly "alive" with action. Things were so busy, almost no one had time for a meal right now, but she needed coffee; her fifth cup today and it was just noon.

When she had first arrived aboard, she had been ordered to report to Sickbay as soon as possible, so she had gone to her room to change into her uniform.

That's when she discovered the glitch that had cost her two hours of precious time and attention.

The malfunction had involved her quarter-doors first locking her in, and then continually opening and closing without responding to the controls at all. After considerable effort in escaping her possessed chambers, and then even more effort in trying to find a free mechanic, she had arrived at Medicalbay, where she was given several disdainful looks from her fellow nurses. She had worked since then (about 5am) till now (about 12o'clock) without so much as a wink of sleep.

Ah, the glamorous life of a nurse.

She had just picked up her cup coffee and was choosing a table to sit at (there were plenty of choices) when she noticed an arm waving at her. It was Uhura. Next to her was Chekov, and then a young man she couldn't recall seeing before.

She couldn't pass up a chance talking to them, even if she didn't have time. She zig-zagged towards them and then collapsed in one of the vacant chairs next to Uhura.

Chekov raised raised his eyebrow at her slumped posture and Uhura said, "You look like you're about to fall asleep, Chris. Or maybe just fall down and die."

Christine smiled weakly, "I wish I could just fall over and die, but then I'd get yelled at. I'm just here for coffee." She looked down and noticed both of them were in the middle of eating lunch. "How on earth did you two manage to get off?"

Chekov grinned, "Ho, you know Nyota's powver of persvasion."

Christine clicked her tongue in a mock reproach, "Really, Ny, taking advantage of your superior officers' weaknesses in the middle of a crisis." She shook her head in wide-eyed disbelief.

Uhura gave a very innocent look, "I don't know what your talking about; I just asked nicely."

They all laughed and Christine felt like a heavy pack had been lifted off her shoulders. Even in the worst of times, these guys could make her laugh.

"Oh, yeah, Chris, this is Jonathan Rikes, he just transferred here." said Uhura, just now remembering the withdrawn ensign sitting at their table. "Jon, this is Christine Chapel; she's a nurse."

Jonathan acknowledged her with a nod. "Nice to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you too, Mr. Rikes, I'm sorry your first few days aboard the Enterprise had to be so chaotic. Shocked?"

The ensign chuckled nervously, "Don't worry, I'd heard so many stories, I think I was pretty well prepared."

Chapel laughed, "Yes, well, it does seem that this ship is attracted to trouble. So how did you meet Uhura and Chekov?"

Rikes turned red and Uhura answered for him, her eyes sparkling mischievously, "Oh, we forced our company on him, of course. There were plenty other tables we could have sat at, but we decided to do the considerate thing and welcome our new recruit. He looked so alone over here."

Chekov laughed and Rikes blushed harder. Christine smiled kindly and said, "You'll get used to these two troublemakers eventually, don't feel bad. We were all harassed by them at first."

"And don't get the wrong impression about anyone else, either," Said Uhura her voice lowering, "Some of us aren't acting like our normal selves in this craziness." She exchanged a significant look with Chekov that caught Christine's attention. Chekov frowned, looking down at his meal.

"Who's not acting like themselves?" Christine asked, leaning forward. Uhura looked at Rikes out of the corner of her eye quickly, then seemed to decide it was safe.

"It was the Captain and Mr. Spock--well, Mr. Spock was acting like himself, I suppose, but the Captain….."

"Mr. Spock suggested ve should try to find another vay to deal vith thees situation because of ze condition of ze sheep and ze shortage of ze crew." Chekov finished for her. Christine nodded, seeing the logic in the proposal.

"Well, the Captain disagreed without even trying to listen to him, which I thought was very odd." Uhura continued, tilting her head to the side in thought. "Then Mr. Spock tried to convince him again, and he may have been a little out of line, but the Captain just blew up."

Christine frowned. That didn't sound like the Captain. Everyone on the crew knew he and his first officer were very close friends, even if they themselves didn't go blabbing about it.

"Yes, it vos a beeg overreation," Chekov went on, "He vos yelling in front of ze entire breedge."

"He said Mr. Spock didn't care if people were dying, he only cared about doing the logical thing." Uhura said somberly.

"Well, that makes sense," Rikes said suddenly. They all looked over at him. He seemed worked up. "Of course, the guy is just like a robot, I would yell at him too! If someone was dying, I would help them even if it meant putting myself in danger! He's just totally unfeeling!"

Chapel, Uhura, and Chekov exchanged looks.

"You may not have served him long enough to know, ensign," Uhura started slowly, "But Mr. Spock is not unfeeling in the slightest. In my opinion, he is the most humble, perceptive person I've ever met. And certainly the kindest. But he is still a Vulcan. He was suggesting the logical option. It's who he is. The Captain knows that; he didn't need to dress him down the way he did." Uhura said with conviction, "I'd say there's something else going on here. Something deeper that we're not seeing."

There was a slight pause as they considered these words. Uhura's intuition was nearly always spot on.

"And they'd better address it soon, because if they fall apart, this ship will fall apart too."

**Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek**

Spock sat down stiffly at his desk. He had always found his room to be a pleasant area to come back to, now even more so than before.

It had been 3 in the morning when they had set off for their destination, and now, 10 hours later, they had reached their destination. The destruction of the Starbase was indeed catastrophic, a tremendous loss, and the perpetrators nowhere to be found. They continually scanned space around the wreckage of the base for any signs of the Romulan vessels responsible, but with no positive results.

Perhaps sensing impending pandemonium along with the obvious exhaustion of the the Bridgecrew, the Captain had allowed everyone currently on the bridge a ten minute break, replacing them with temporaries.

It had taken some considerable convincing to get Spock to accept the break, but when he did leave, he had gone directly to his quarters. There was an issue of great importance on his mind which he must address immediately.

He was going to resign.

He could, in no way possible, stay aboard this vessel. He could not remain in Starfleet. There was no alternative to this resolution. He had considered it once after their last mission, but yesterday's ordeal had cemented the decision.

It was so obvious, he did not know how he had missed it before. He had thought that this would be his turning point, that after he realized his slip and had began to rectify his mistake, he would be able to rebuild his shields and once again become the Vulcan he was supposed to be.

How could he have thought that?

He should have known he was too weak, he should have known that he had ventured out too far now to be saved. He thought he could recover after his first emotional reaction, but he was in error. His emotional attachment to this ship, to her members, and to her Captain had grown too strong. If he stayed aboard the Enterprise, he would eventually lose his control completely. He would no longer be able to function rationally because his emotions would obscure his judgment.

And he could not understand others' emotions, just as he had misinterpreted Kirk's actions. Of course his Captain had been angry. He was completely justified in his actions on the bridge. Kirk's fury was a result of his own ignorance. He had been following Kirk around like a puppy, to blind to realize Kirk had only been trying to distance himself. The Captain himself, a human, understood that the relationship between a Captain and a First Officer should be nothing more than regulation. Business. But he, a Vulcan, had been so dazzled and intrigued by his logical and charismatic Captain, that he had failed to acknowledge the obvious boundaries set forth.

He could not see that his Captain was detaching himself from the deadly emotional bond that may have led to both of their destructions. He, however, was blindly destroying whatever his Captain built with his misconceptions. He could not stay aboard a ship full of humans with their emotions when he so obviously could not comprehend them. It impeded his judgement as well as his logic. Unacceptable.

But where would he go? If he resigned after the fulfillment of this mission, then…what? He could not go back to Vulcan and face his Father. His Father who had frowned on his decision of joining Starfleet in the first place, his Father who would not communicate with his own son because of the choices he had made.

And his Mother? She would always forgive him, no matter what his fault might be, but his resignation would implicate her. His inadequacies always did. His return back to his family would be viewed by all Vulcans as the failure in Human and Vulcan unity, the disintegration of everything his parents' marriage had symbolized. The humans' errors. His Mother's errors. His errors.

He breathed in deeply. He did not know what he would do or where he would turn after this, but he did know that he could not stay here where he was becoming a constant burden, where his absurd confusion might even cost lives.

He leaned forward and rubbed his forehead. Headache. A human grievance he had been unfortunate enough as to inherit.

2 minutes and 46 seconds left until he was due back on duty. He required more time than that for his much needed meditation. His emotions were so close to the surface, he did not know how much longer he could restrain them without building his shields.

When he was younger, his Mother often talked about hope, a human emotion Spock had convinced himself he did not feel, but now, sitting in his quarters alone, he hoped. He hoped he would be able to complete this mission before he cracked.

His thoughts were disrupted by the sound of Lieutenant Uhura's voice crackling urgently over the comm. panel:

"Mr. Spock report to the bridge; Romulan Warships approaching."

**A.N. Hope you liked this chapter, most of it was very entertaining to write. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't take the credit for writing it because it's just so durned amusing :). Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

The Lines Between: Chapter 8

By Delmantheevil

"Uhura, hail them." Kirk said. He whipped the sweat from his forehead and stared intently at the four Romulan ships approaching them on the Viewscreen.

"I tried, sir, on all frequencies." Uhura answered urgently , "No response."

Kirk nodded. He'd expected them to ignore their attempts for communication. They'd ignored Starbase 13's. He heard the Turbolift open, and knew it was Spock coming in, but his attention was solely on the mission now.

They'd been searching the space around the decimated Starbase over an hour before their scanners had picked up signals coming from four vessels, headed in their direction. He'd instantly put the ship on full alert, Code Red. There was a leading Romulan Bird of Prey flagged by three other ships on either side of it.

"Ships approaching at warp 6, sir!" Yelled Mr. Sulu.

"They are taking apparent hostile positions." Came Spock's calm voice from his side.

"Match it. Shields up, prepare weapons but do not fire unless they do so first." Kirk gritted his teeth, his eyes locked on the screen and their enemies, adrenaline pumping through his veins in anticipation.

"Romulans locking weapons, sir!"

"Evasive maneuvers!" Kirk roared as the Romulan flagship opened fire.

The Enterprise swerved jerkily to the right and just barely deflected the plasma torpedoes aimed directly for their hull.

"Excellent Mr. Sulu!" But Kirk didn't sound at all pleased. The ships were moving, maneuvering around them into a well constructed formation that seemed to be very well planned out. Two of the ships began to circle around to the right, obviously planning to come at them from behind, the leading flagship remained directly in front of them, another ship to its left. As his mind whirred, calculating this new information and searching for a solution, he noticed vaguely that they weren't all Romulan Birds of Prey. Indeed, only two of them were the Romulans' military vessels. The other two were unfamiliar to him, but seemed to be of Romulan construction as well.

"Mr. Spock, I do not recognize those two ships, what are they?"

Spock answered, still looking into his Viewscreen, "The one to the farthest right is a Romulan mining vessel, the one next to it is a Romulan supply ship. Peculiar. But I believe all Romulan ships harbor some sort of defense system. They are both likely to control weaponry of some kind."

The ships had not fired on them again, but they were moving instead to surround them, soon they would be coming at them from all angles.

"Mr. Chekov, lock phasers on the Romulan Bird of Prey shouldering the leader."

"Locking phasers on target, sir."

"Romulan ship at 53 mark 7, locking weapons, sir!"

"Fire!"

"They're firing, sir!"

The resounding explosion of they're phasers hitting the Bird of Prey was joined by the jolt of the ship under their feet as the Romulan torpedoes just grazed their warp nacelles.

"Damage to the Romulan?" Kirk asked panting.

"Wital damage, sir!" Chekov choked out, unable to believe his own actions. Sulu slapped him on the back, grinning. "Luck shot, I theenk, sir."

"The injured Romulan Bird of Prey is deteriorating." Spock reported, his voice conversational: as if they were discussing the weather and not the destruction of a ship.

"Two Romulan ships locking targets!" Sulu shouted. "Preparing to fire!"

"Full power to shields!" Kirk ordered as Sulu yelled, "Firing!"

The impact was three times as big as the las time, knocking almost all of them off their feet and out of their chairs. Smoke filled the air, and Kirk struggled to get to his feet, his eyes watering and sweat pouring off his face. Coughing erupted from the Bridge officers. He punched the com. panel.

"Scotty? Damage report!"

"They've kicked us right in the liver, Captain, they knew exactly where they was aiming'." Scotty said bitterly. "Damage to Engineering. Major power drain from main engines, we're running on impulse now, sir. Shields down to 15%! We canna take another hit like that or we're finished!"

They were dead in the water, badly injured, and surrounded by three Romulan ships that weren't open for negotiations.

"Thirteen casualties! Five dead, eight injured!" Said Mr. Kyle, helping an officer to his feet.

"Ship at 43 mark 10 locking targets again, sir!"

Kirk cussed under his breathe and turned his attention back to the screen.

"Firing!"

"Evasive, Mr. Sulu!" Yelled Kirk, his voice hoarse from screaming orders.

The ship wouldn't respond to the controls right away, but under Sulu's practiced hands she was able to creak slowly up just enough to almost entirely avoid the torpedoes that were skillfully aimed for their engines.

Engines.

Yes, they were trying to cripple them.

The ship rumbled slightly under their feet as the torpedo made contact. It barely grazed them.

He whipped his forehead on his sleeve, his vision blurring for a moment. He must have hit his head when he fell.

"Ship locking targets again, sir!"

"Mr. Chekov," Kirk turned suddenly, a spark of inspiration, "Lock phaser on current attacking ship!" It was the ship Spock had said was for mining.

"Aye, sir."

"I want you to fire exactly when they do, aim at their torpedo launchers."

Chekov face lit up, understanding, "Aye, Keptin!"

"Firing!"

Chekov punched the controls, firing almost simultaneously. The Phaser beam and the plasma torpedo met in mid air and a massive explosion lit the space between the two ships, momentarily blinding them.

When they could open their eyes again, they saw that the ship that had fired, the one the farthest to their right, had retreated slightly, scared back by their last stunt.

"Prepare to fire on them!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. They had only moments before the other two ships could react.

"Ready, sir!"

"Fire!!!!"

They hit the retreating ship on their port side, just under their warp engines. An exceptional shot, but not enough to take them out altogether or even incapacitate them.

Then the damaged ship seemed to recover suddenly and the other two reacted simultaneously.

"All three ships, locking weapons on us, sir!"

The Bridge went silent as all heads turned to look at Kirk. Their faces, with the exception of Spock, were wearing the same, pleading expression that clearly asked, _What should we do now?_

He didn't know what to say. There was no evasive action they could take this time that could protect them from all three shots. They all knew that, that's why they were looking to him now. It was times like this, times when all hope seemed lost, that they looked to their Captain, who always seemed to find a possible way out of an impossible situation. Who turned a no-win situation into a fighting chance.

His throat went dry. He couldn't give them that this time. He'd let them down. They were all going to die because he was sore with his First Officer…..

They would fire any moment now….

"Sir, the Romulan flagship is hailing us!"

All heads snapped around to look at Uhura, her hand at her ear, her face alight with incredulity.

Jim jumped on the chance immediately. "Put him on screen, Lieutenant!"

Uhura hastened to fulfill his order and Kirk combed his hair back with his hand and fixed his crooked uniform, trying to look less desperate and frazzled than he actually was. This was no time to appear weak, he must look in control. A Captain always must. When he looked more presentable, he took a moment to calm himself, switching on the charming yet firm negotiation face he so often used in situations such as these.

The screen came on, and they were staring at the enlarged face of a Romulan Captain. Sleek brown hair, tan skin, black eyes under slanted eyebrows. The face looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't recall where he had seen it before.

The Romulan Captain appraised him for a moment, his face somewhat superior in expression.

"Captain Kirk." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I am Captain Kirk," Jim answered, "Commander of the USS Enterprise. Surely you understand that your actions are a declaration of war?"

"I stand apart from the Romulan Government." Said the Commander cooly, his eyes flickered momentarily to Jim's right, then back.

"Yet you come in a warship, manufactured and used by the Romulan military fleet, and in uniform." Kirk pointed out.

The Commander looked uninterested, "I don't believe you are in any position to be asking questions, nor I in the position of answering them now. Just let it be known that I stand separate from the Romulan Empire in my actions."

Jim folded his arms across his chest.

"I believe, Mr. Kirk, we have you outmatched and outgunned. I could blow your ship to bits now, if I wish. I believe you are immobile?"

"Oh, we are quite capable of movement, Commander," He bluffed, "We only stopped our attack because you hailed us. We'd already been trying to make contact with you before. Or maybe you didn't notice. We were on the verge of destroying another of your ships, in fact."

The Commander's eyes flickered with something, sadness perhaps, but then they turned to anger as he lost his calm mask.

"You're ship is incapacitated, Kirk, do not lie to me! You could not move if you worked for three days to repair your engines!" His anger subsided somewhat and he said, "Do not worry, your crew will not be harmed. In fact, they are free to go, along with the ship. I do not need it." He chuckled.

That caught Kirk off guard and it took him a moment to regain his poker face.

"Why did you attack us, then? And why did you destroy Starbase 13?" It didn't make any sense.

"Ahh, you still have not figured out who I am….Disappointing. Not even you, Spock?"

Jim jerked around to look at his First Officer. Spock's face was totally expressionless as he stared into the screen at the Romulan addressing him. Back straight, hands clasped behind him.

"I do not believe I have made your acquaintance, Commander."

"Look into my eyes, Vulcan," The Commander hissed, his eyes glinting, "And tell me you do not know who I am."

Kirk watched Spock study the Commander's face for a moment, then stiffen suddenly.

"Spock?" He asked anxiously, "Who is it?"

Spock turned his attention to his Captain, his face still amazingly blank, "Sir, I believe it is--."

"Ah, Ah, Ah, Mr. Spock." The Commander interrupted, shaking his head, "Do not ruin the surprise." He chuckled. "Now to business. It seems, Captain, that I have you at a disadvantage. I shall rectify the situation. Your ship and crew are to be spared. With one exception. You and your First Officer are to beam aboard my ship at once. If you comply, your crew is free to go. If you do not, I will destroy you all anyways. Your choice. I will send the coordinates. If you are not here in five minutes……" He chuckled, obviously seeing no need to complete the sentence. "I advise you say your farewells, gentlemen."

The viewscreen went blank.

**A.N. I didn't have time to write this (final exams and getting my permit and all), but I did anyways. Somehow. Reviewers get a cookie. **


	9. Chapter 9

The Lines Between: Chapter 9

By Delmantheevil

Kirk stood staring at the blank screen. The Bridge was mute, or maybe he just couldn't hear anything over the ringing in his ears. His brain was buzzing, searching for a alternative solution. Nothing.

He gazed into the void. All he could see was the expectant Romulan vessel in front of him surrounded by a swirling darkness. His future. A straight path leading up to that ship.

Then suddenly someone was gripping his arm. As he turned to see who it was, he felt as if the air was made of goo and he could move only in slow-motion.

It was Sulu. His eyes were gleaming with fixed determination.

"Captain, we'll get out of this. Don't go over there. We'll find another way."

For some reason, when he heard Sulu's tenacious assurance he felt the corners of his mouth twitch, as if the talk of his forthcoming death was humorous somehow. Or maybe just the idea of hope in such a hopeless situation was what was funny. Or maybe he was losing it.

Chekov stood up, too. "Yes, Keptin, we will find a way, do not liseen to zem."

"Captain. You two can't go over there." Uhura had stood up too. Several others stood up as well, following their comrades' que, the ones already standing straightened. A protest. A shield of protection.

Jim stared at them for a moment. He felt a sudden, tremendous rush of affection for his crew. They were the best crew in Starfleet. He couldn't let them die because of that. His stomach dropped suddenly as the full realization of their position hit him square in the gut. And he knew what he had to do.

Without saying a word, he turned to his chair panel and clicked the communicator on.

"Mr. Scott, is the transporter in working order?"

Scotty's voice crackled on. "Aye, Captain, it is, but it's about the only thing--."

Jim cut him off. "Good, report to the Bridge immediately."

"Captain?" Scotty asked, confused, "Sir, I'm needed here, she's in bad shape,what's going--?"

Kirk's voice was grim. "The Bridge, Mr. Scott."

There was a pause, then, "Aye, Captain."

He turned to Chekov. "How long do we have?"

It was not often one saw Pavel Chekov distressed, but now his face was carved mask of sorrow. But he did not protest again. The Captain had made up his mind. "4 minutes, 36 seconds."

4 minutes and 36 seconds left with his crew. 4 minutes and 36 seconds to formulate a plan to get them out alive when he was gone. 4 minutes and 36 seconds and he might be dead.

He realized abruptly that he wasn't the only one who might be dead. He turned slowly and met Spock's eyes for the first time that day. He could enlist to throw his life away without so much as a thought, but he couldn't just volunteer his First Officer. His gaze was a question, and Spock, looking back at him with fully comprehending eyes, answered it with the slightest nod of his head.

A shuddery understanding passed between them.

Then Spock stood. He looked at Kirk in expectancy. It took Jim a moment, but he finally remembered the question that had been echoing in his head a few minutes earlier.

"The Commander. Who is he?"

Spock clamped his hands behind his back, "Captain, do you recall, on our most frequent mission, the female Romulan Captain we detained as prisoner?"

How could he forget her? She had been a sharp one, yes, but she'd been fooled. Blinded was a better word, really. She'd been so eager to capture their Starship for a prize and win Spock's allegiance, that she had overlooked crucial signs and details.

Her affections for Spock had caused her to place all of her faith in him prematurely. A grave error which they had used to their advantage. While Spock distracted her, Kirk had beamed aboard and successfully stolen the cloaking device they had been assigned to obtain. She paid for her mistakes with the loss of the Starship, the cloaking device, and her position as Captain.

Kirk nodded his recollection grimly.

"It is my belief that the Romulan Commander we have encountered today is her brother."

This surprised Kirk, but explained the reason for his earlier recognition. Yes, he had the same eyes.

"Are you sure it's her brother?" He asked earnestly. If it was, this was very bad. Sibling relationships were strong, Kirk knew that. No matter what the circumstances, he would do anything for his brother Sam, and vice versa. Honor and duty were huge factors in a Romulan life. This Commander would undoubtedly hold them responsible for disgracing his sister's name.

Spock nodded his head slightly in affirmation.

"While I was occupying her for dinner," He began, "she spoke of a brother. A younger brother whom she thought very highly of. Trian was his name, I believe. She also told me of her parents' death, how she was left to raise him. She was very protective of him, and when he joined the Romulan Military after her, she aided him in rapid promotion of rank. Captain, their bond is _very_ strong." He gave Kirk a significant look.

Kirk rubbed his forehead, groaning inwardly. This was very, very bad. If he had interpreted Spock's evaluation correctly, the bond between these siblings was so strong, they weren't likely to survive long once on his ship.

_Maybe he'll kill us quickly_ Kirk thought, almost hoped. After all, they had shown his sister mercy and courtesy aboard their ship. It all depended on the character and the emotions of this brother. But one thing was certain now.

They were going to die.

Scotty chose this particular moment to make his entrance. His features were wrinkled in confusion.

"Captain, what did ye--."

"Scotty, Mr. Spock and I are beaming over to the Romulan flagship. I'm ordering you to take charge of the Enterprise when we do."

Scotty looked surprised but not shocked. "Well…alrigh' Captain, but I've got plenty to do in Engineering, when do ye think ye'll be comin' back?"

"Scotty…." His voice caught for a moment, but then he straightened up, his voice firm. "I don't know. I don't know when or even if we will be coming back. The Romulan Commander has ordered Mr. Spock and I to beam over or he will destroy the Enterprise without question. He's consented to let this ship go free if we agree to beam over to his as prisoners. That's why….I'm holding you responsible for the safety of this crew now, Mr. Scott. I'm putting you in command."

Scotty's expression was now that of utter desperation, "But, Captain no! They'll kill you! Ye must know tha--!"

Kirk held up is hand to stop him. They didn't have time. "Mr. Scott, please, no interruptions. When we leave, you are to work on repairing this ship as fast as possible. Minimal repairs, Scotty. And as soon as you can achieve warp, I want you to get out of here."

Scotty shook his head vigorously, "Nah ah, Captain, we won't leave ye two here."

"Listen to me, Scotty!" Kirk ordered firmly, "Listen. This ship is in no condition to continue fighting. We're outmatched. We're injured. The Romulans won't show the Enterprise mercy if she attacks again. This way we have a chance! If we beam over to negotiate with them, you can go back and get help for us." He lied. They would be dead long before help came.

He glared into Scotty's eyes with a blazing intensity. "When you're able to get warp, get out of here. That's an order."

Scotty stared at Kirk for a long moment, then, finally, he relented. "Aye, Captain."

The Bridge was silent again. They had known this was coming, but now it was set in stone. Said aloud. They regarded their two commanding officers with a mix of reverence, grief, and admiration.

"2 minutes left." Chekov said quietly.

Kirk looked over at Spock. Spock nodded and walked over to stand by his Captain.

Kirk took a deep breathe and addressed the Bridge crew. "You have all heard my orders to Mr. Scott. I want you all to strive to assist him in as many ways as possible and obey everything he says." He smiled slightly, "I know you won't let me down. You never have before." He didn't want it to sound too much like a goodbye.

He nodded in appreciation towards Sulu and Chekov. They inclined their heads toward him in return. Although they still looked sorrowful, they had also taken on a very determined expression. They would not let this sacrifice go in vain, he knew he could count on them for that.

He turned and looked at Uhura. There were tears running down her cheeks. He smiled reassuringly at her, and she returned it with some effort.

He needed more time.

But time was running out.

He motioned for Spock to follow him. They turned their backs on the Bridge and walked out into the Turbolift. Life was a shaky blur to him until they reached the Transporter Room.

When his vision locked on the Pad, he suddenly felt more prepared. Calm even. He breathed in steadily, then walked up to stand on the circular mat. The ensign running the Transporter, who he did not recognize, watched them warily. Kirk glanced over at Spock next to him. His eyes were downcast, studying the floor. And then Jim knew that he couldn't leave it like this. This wasn't the way it was supposed to end. He couldn't bare dying when things weren't completely right between them.

"Spock--." He began. But the familiar sensation of the transporter dragging him away from his surroundings enveloped him. His last sight before he was taken was the Transporter officer smirking at him.

**A.N. CLIFFHANGER!! But short. I know. Sorry 'bout that. This chapter may have been a little anti-climactic, I don't know, you tell me (*hint, hint* reviews pleash), but I tried to write it as well as I could. Just to warn you, I have finals this week, so I might not be able to update as often as I'd like to (meaning my next update might come in a week or maybe less). Until then Live Long and Prosper, my friends \\//.**


	10. Chapter 10

The Lines Between: Chapter 10

By Delmantheevil

McCoy swore loudly as the doors to Sickbay swung open and two more crew members walked through. His patient jumped at his outburst, looking scared. He muttered an apology.

The last think in the world he needed right now were more invalids to deal with. He finished sealing the bandage over the deep gash on Isabella Stryder's leg, then patted her on the back reassuringly.

"Alright, we got you patched up for now, but it's only a temporary bandage, so don't move around too much. I want you to sit right there 'til we can get back to ya, alright?"

Stryder nodded, still looking fixedly down at her injured leg.

He sighed, then turned around. "Nurse Gratias?" He called to the nurse on the other side of the room. She turned around to face him, huffing, hair askew. Her gloves were covered in blood and the patient on the cot behind her was moaning horribly.

"Once you've got him in a good position, please work on getting Miss Stryder a more permanent bandage."

Gratias nodded, then turned quickly back to her patient. McCoy forced himself to smile for Stryder's benefit one last time before moving on to the next patient. It was the two officer who had just come in.

"Well, what's wrong with you two?" He asked, folding his arms across his chest and taking them both in.

They looked up at him grimly, then the one to the left said, "There's nothing wrong with me, Doctor, I was just supposed to escort Cedra here. He fell on the bridge, I think his wrist's broken."

Bones grimaced. Almost everyone had fallen when the ship jolted, although, no one in Sickbay was injured. They'd hung onto bunks and desks for dear life. Then, about fifteen minutes ago, it had all stopped. He'd just been in the process of wondering what in heck had gone on, when, like magic, officers had come pouring in from all decks, supporting or carrying injured comrades. The place had been hell, and, despite the admirable efforts of the Medical Team, he'd had to pronounce five of his seven patients dead. His stomach dropped at the memory. It had never been easy and it never would be. As a doctor, he knew that well.

He also knew that his job wasn't to know everything that was going on outside of sickbay, even if the suspense killed him. Heck, their ship had been taken captive once and he didn't even know until an hour later when a patient had told him. And now he didn't know what was going on around him once again, half the ship could be blown apart for all he knew. His small, focused world; his narrow little reality was here in Sickbay. He treated and healed the ill and injured, and then sent them on their way. Then on to the next patient…..He loved being a doctor, but it did get on his nerves sometimes.

McCoy shook his head and put his hand out for Cedra's arm, and the injured man held it out gingerly. McCoy took it and studied it lightly.

"It's a break all right. I'll set it and put it in a cast. You can go back to the bridge." He said to the unharmed man. They probably needed as much help as they could get. The officer nodded, but looked at the doors reluctantly without getting up.

Then McCoy noticed how sincerely…..agonized they both looked.

"No need to look so down." McCoy said, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll get this thing patched up. You can trust this doctor's word. " He chuckled.

The man to the left looked down at his hands, his face hardening. "I think, given the circumstances, any other expression would be inappropriate."

McCoy raised his eyebrows, "Well, don't be so pessimistic so fast. I don't know everything that's goin' on, but I do know that whatever situation we're in, the Captain will find some way out of it _and_ come out on top. Always does."

Both of their heads jerked up simultaneously to look at him, their faces confused.

"Doctor, the Captain--." But he was cut off by Scotty's voice suddenly booming throughout the room via the broadcaster.

_"This is acting Captain Montgomery Scott." _McCoy, momentarily forgetting his patient, jerked upright and began to listen with the utmost attention._ "I want everyone aboard this ship who has any sort of experience in engineering or mechanical work at all to report down to Main Engineering immediately to assist in repairs. I don't care what else ye're doin', drop it and report down there. This is an order, and anyone found ignoring it will be penalized. Scott out."_

"Doctor!" Chapel yelled at McCoy, but he was already out the door.

He didn't understand the reason for Scotty's order and he didn't know what was going on, but he did know this: one, Scotty was acting Captain, which meant both Kirk and Spock were gone….somewhere, two, that Scotty hadn't explained anything, and three, that he was completely and utterly furious at the lot of them.

He was pretty sure they weren't dead or that would have been announced, so that meant that they were off on some stupid, self-sacrificing mission to save the ship together. Holy……he _hated_ when they did this. Honestly, didn't they care what he was going through when they were off being selflessly chivalrous? Risking their lives every time without even a thought about how their deaths would impact him.

He didn't care what rules or regulations he was breaking by leaving, or how Spock would raise his eyebrow at him disapprovingly and then commence to lecturing him about human irrationalities, howeveryone has their place, and then he'd probably stick logic in there somehow just to annoy him. He didn't care. He wasn't going to have any more of this mysterious lunacy. He was going to get an explanation and he was going to get it now.

"What the Holy Mother Starship is going on here?!" He yelled, no longer able to contain his frustration and anger as he stormed onto the bridge.

Scotty, who was startled by the furious outburst and the sudden appearance of a grumpy doctor on his bridge, stopped in the middle of giving some orders. "Doctor McCoy--."

"Doctor McCoy my knee! What the blazes is going on here, Scotty? Where's Jim? And where's Spock?!" He suddenly caught sight of the Romulan warship on the screen. "Are they over there? Have they been captured? Negotiating? Did we lose?!" He had been building up with question after questions all day and now they were all exploding out of him.

"Doctor, calm down!" Scotty yelled. McCoy saw that sweat was soaking his shirt. He'd never seen Scotty so frazzled before. "Yes, we did lose. But, the Captain of that ship, " he gestured towards the Romulan Warbird, "agreed to let us go if the Captain and Mr. Spock beam over as prisoners. And so they have."

Bones groaned. Of course. Of _course_ they did. And then he was angry again, "Why did you let them go?! Those are savage murderers! You heard what they did to the the Starbase! They aren't going to survive over there two seconds!"

"It was the Captain's order, there was nothin' I could do to stop 'em." Scotty's face darkened. "And I think the Captain knew they wouldn't survive two seconds over there. He's ordered us to make repairs as fast as possible and get out of here before the Romulans change their minds."

"WHAT?!" McCoy roared. Of all the……stupid…! He couldn't even speak for disbelief and rage. "You---we---no---there's---we can't leave them there! Screw the Captain's orders! We can't just let them die!"

"The Captain's orders are orders." Scotty said with a frown. Then suddenly, he grinned.

Bones gawked at him. "What is---what are---this is ridiculous! You---you can't possibly be thinking of obeying the Captain's orders!"

"Oh, I fully intend to follow the Captain's orders precisely to the letter." Said Scotty conspiratorially.

McCoy just stared at him, beyond disbelief now. He wanted to rip his own hair out and punch Scotty in the face at the same time. What was _wrong_ with this man?

Scotty walked past McCoy and sat down in the Captain's chair. "You see, doctor, I'm the Captain now. Captain Kirk directed me to take command of this ship when he left. So you see, some of the "Captain's" orders have been….well, improved."

Bones stood dumbfounded, his expression blank. Then realization flashed across his face. He was relieved with the reassurance of Scotty's sanity, but he still had a barn-sized load of questions he needed answers to. He chose the one that was confusing him the most. "Why did you order virtually everyone down to Engineering? A fancy of yours?"

Scotty stood up, pacing over to the railing. "Well, since no one seems to be following the rules anymore, why shouldn't I bend 'em to fit my plans too? And according to my plan, only three things need to be fixed on this ship. Shields, warp engines, and weapons. Nothin' else. And, for my new 'plan' to succeed, these three things need to be working as fast as possible. Why should this crew be workin' on anythin' other than what we need right now? Time is short, see. Very, very short." His voice had taken on a much more serious tone.

McCoy nodded in understanding.

"Mr. Sulu," Scotty called, "You have the comm., I've got to get down to Engineering to oversee. Oh, and doctor." Scott said, a slight twinkle in his eye. "I don't think ye'd be much help in Engineering. Best just stick to Sickbay."

"I'll take that as a compliment." McCoy said sarcastically. "And Captain Scott….I hope you have a darned good plan, otherwise I might just be calling you 'Captain' permanently."

**Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek **

Kirk winced as the burly Romulan officer hit him hard between the shoulder-blades from behind with something metallic to hurry him through the doors of what he surmised to be the engineering section of the ship. It was going to leave a bruise, but did that really matter now?

Spock was being herded on just to his right, but he seemed to be moving at a rate deemed more acceptable by the Romulans, and so had not received as much…..constructive criticism. Both of their hands were chained behind their backs, although Kirk saw no point for this. They were just as trapped with or without them. He wanted to slap himself for thinking so negatively but then, his hands were chained.

Jim glanced around. The Engineering room was crowded with guards. That must mean there weren't to many officers tending the Bridge…..reckless. He knew the Enterprise was severely crippled, they were being too presumptuous. Their were carelessly letting their guard down. He wished he had a communicator to tell Scotty……..

They had nearly reached the far-end of room when he felt hands clamp down on his shoulders and he was forced roughly to his knees. He heard Spock being thumped down next to him.

"Jocav, you really shouldn't treat guests so harshly. They'll never want to visit again after this." Came a deep voice from behind them which was shortly accompanied by a chuckle. Kirk and Spock's heads swiveled around to face the voice.

Trian approached them calmly, hands clasped behind back. He stopped to face and survey them with faux fascination.

"How good it is to see you at last." He said pleasantly." I've heard and read so much about you, I feel as if we've already met." He smiled warmly at them. If they had not been attacked by his ships, and not seen his face on the View Screen ordering them to surrender, Kirk and Spock might have thought they had beamed over to the wrong ship.

Trian took in their expressions. Well, Kirk's expression at least.

"Confused, Captain Kirk?" Trian said softly, "Didn't think a Romulan could be a gentleman?" He laughed to himself again and a few of the guards behind them grunted their amusement. "Well Mr. Kirk, I confess I thought defeating you would be slightly more difficult. I am disappointed."

Kirk did not rise to the bait, but instead took a lesson from his First Officer and remained silent.

Trian turned his attention to Spock instead.

"So this is the infamous Mr. Spock." Trian said, and this time Kirk heard the bitter edge in his voice. No doubt his sister had told him of Spock's personal betrayal of her. Trian paced around to Spock's side. "You know, although our people are not on the best terms with one another, Vulcans are somewhat considered to be cousins of Romulans. A shame you will have to die the way you will."

This brought Kirk's temper boiling to the surface, and he spoke for the first time since boarding the ship. "You think this is a game, Commander? You've killed over 200 innocent people!"

Trian sighed, "Yes, I do feel remorse about that, but I needed something to get the Enterprise's attention. How else could I get you to follow me across the border?"

Kirk was aghast at his easy tone. "I wasn't just a cruel, soulless slaughter; what you did was an act of war!"

"Captain, you seem to have a very short memory. I believe I have said before that I stand apart from the Romulan Government." He looked slightly annoyed.

"And as I said before, you come in a Romulan Warbird, in uniform. Your guards call you 'Commander.' Our federation may not wait to here the exact details, so would you like to clear up the exact separation?"

Trian mulled it over for a moment. "Very well, then. I will make this clear. I am a Commander in the Romulan military. But, this was not a mission assigned to me by my superiors, nor was it suggested for consideration to be one. I was at my headquarters on my home planet awaiting my next orders when I received the news of what had happened to my sister." His face darkened. "I immediately set to organizing a fleet to track down the vagabonds who instigated the atrocity. However, I knew that my superior officers would never consent to such a plan, so I never discussed it with them. I spoke to my crew," He gave his men a respectful look, "and they loyally agreed to follow me in my search for revenge. Without orders and using my army's commandeered equipment, I attacked and destroyed your Outpost and incapacitated your ship."

"But," Kirk interrupted, "we saw other ships, too. A supply ship and mining vessel both used by your government."

"Those," Trian said, his voice tight, "are being commanded by some of my closest friends. They owe me their lives, and I've asked them to redeem their debts now by joining me."

Kirk could not believe his ears. "You would put your friends in that kind of danger? Risk their lives and ask them to betray their own government so that you can avenge your sister's honor? Now they will face charges of mutiny, insubordination, and conspiracy from their own planet, and be associated with the possible start of a war! Do you even comprehend the kind of punishment you yourself will receive for your actions?"

Trian did not lose his cool, "My comrades know what they are risking. As for me, Captain, I believe my government will pardon my actions when they fully understand my story. I will tell you this: on Romulus, revenge is held in high respect. As is honor. The loss of honor is the ultimate disgrace in my world. And for the disgrace and humiliation and grief you have caused my sister, my revenge will truly be nothing short of expected."

Spock had not uttered a sound since the moment they had arrived, but now he spoke for the first time.

"Commander, if you will permit me to make a statement."

Trian looked over at Spock. His silence was his permission.

Spock spoke in a low, calm voice.

"Your sister is a most exceptional woman. She is the epitome of what a commander should be; intelligent and resourceful. She is exactly what any Romulan would refer to as honorable. I can assure you, the only reason we were able to out-wit and out-think her, was due to a carefully planned ambush which my Captain and I were assigned to carry out. Any commander would have done the same in her situation, and no commander would have been able to forsee the events and schemes that were to take place. She in no way acted dishonorably. She admitted and accepted her defeat with the grace of truly remarkable officer. In my opinion, she should have been commended for her actions; if she has been condemned to disgrace for them, then perhaps the condemners instead, are they on whom revenge should be taken."

Trian stared at Spock.

"You think that the only reason you are here today, is because of the cruelty and prejudice of my people?" He stepped closer to Spock, leaning down so that their faces were on the same level. "Mr. Spock, because of you, my sister is dead."

Spock went visibly paler, and Kirk went cold. This was much worse than he had suspected. He had thought that what Spock had said may have softened the Romulan, perhaps given them a chance. But if he had heard some lie that his sister was dead……..that they were the ones who had killed her. None of their convincing would reach him now.

"I held your sister in very high regard. I assure you, we did not harm her." Spock said.

"Oh, no." The Romulan laughed bitterly, "No you did not physically harmed her. If that were the case, I would have simply killed you. No. You did much worse than that." His voice was strained, and he turned away from them for a moment, facing the wall. When he turned back he was composed again. "When my sister was returned back to Romulus, she was considered a failure by all. She caused the Empire a catastrophic loss, and was therefore to be relieved of duty. The morning this was to occur, they discovered her dead in her room. She had committed suicide."

It took him a few moments before he could speak again. "The day before this happened, I was able to meet with her. She had already been disgraced and slandered, and I set to comfort her. She told me of the events that had taken place. She told me of her pain. But it was not the pain of humiliation which she spoke of. No, it was the pain of the betrayal." He looked directly at Spock. Glared at him. "Did you know that she loved you? I do not understand why, but all the same, she did. And you treated her affections like waste. Her anguish because of your thoughtless, emotionless betrayal of her feelings, was more than any military reprimand could cost her. You are the one, Mr. Spock, who broke my sister's heart."

Spock's tone was on the brink of pleading when he said, "My cruelty was mine, and mine alone. Do not involve my captain, he bears no fault in this matter."

Kirk opened his mouth to say something; he didn't know what, but Trian got there first.

"Wrong. He is to blame as well. I hold you responsible for my sister's personal turmoil, but I hold him responsible for her ultimate social disgrace. If not for him, she might have died at least with her good name. Also," The commander said, smiling a dark smile, "now that I know you a little, I think the best way of punishing you, Mr. Spock, is to see your friend have to suffer for your mistakes. Then maybe you will know the pain I have known before you die."

**A.N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter; I know I did. Feels good to be writing again and I hope to get the next chapter to you soon. If you want to get it sooner, though, be sure to review! Reviews are an Author's motivation! \\//**


	11. Extra

The Lines Between: Extra

Trian

By Delmantheevil

"Live well. It is the greatest revenge."

-The Talmud

Admiral Trian was considered by all heights and concerns of the Romulan people, to be a great warrior and leader. He had been born in a favored position, his family rich, and their name well-known. His parents, and their parents before them were the kind of people who charmed all in their interactions; their refined social graces and general agreeableness had earned them an accumulation of high connections in every place imaginable. Thus, Trian, a single child, was born with his prospects already set high for him. His family before him had all leaned towards the military, so it was not shocking when he also, after leaving school in a blaze of glory and praise, joined the army. He climbed the ladder of ranks faster than anyone had expected of him, even considering his family's good connections. He gained favor with all, and treated all with respect.

Trian was the type of person who did not let anyone form his opinions about other people. He formed his own by watching them himself, and judging them by their own conduct and actions. The Romulan Admiral looked upon everyone he met, of every race, on equal terms with each other, and then allowed them to prove their own worth to him.

Nine years into his career, Admiral Trian, the Romulan's beloved war hero, shocked the Empire as he became the first Romulan in their history to marry a human.

The Romulans were outraged at his betrayal, this union with the enemy. One day he was their aspiring young leader, their courageous hero, the next he was the biggest traitor their history had ever seen. His actions were scandalous and raised discord amongst the people, but his lack of remorse drove them to hate and loathe him. They would have forgiven him and welcomed him back with open arms had he regretted completely his mistakes and left the woman who so obviously manipulated him into a marriage, daring to think she was worthy of a Romulan. But instead he refused absolutely all suggestions of any such sort, and stood tall as he proclaimed his love for the woman he had quite willingly married. Their hate lingered on the edge of a riot, and so the Senate, hoping to pacify their anger, publicly dismissed him from the ranks. The anger seemed to cool as the people pleasured in his disgrace, but the peace was not to last even a year.

The half-human, half-Romulan daughter born to Trian and his wife was the last straw. The riots broke out as the people protested the corruption of their pure Romulan blood. It was unacceptable on all levels, and they pushed and pushed until the Senate could no longer ignore their cries. The baby was not two months old when her parents were publicly executed and a ban was placed on all Romulan inter-breeding concerning any other race under penalty of death.

But even this could not slake the people's blood-lust. They wanted that baby dead.

Her innocent, harmless existence was a threat to them; a threat of the corruption of their race, their line diseased with inferior blood. They screamed out protests against her life. They sought to purge all remains of the tainted blood. After six months of controversy and struggle, a impasse was made; the child was to live. She was to live, but under the condition that she marry only a Romulan, and her children marry only Romulans. The child lived, but she was never to have a normal life.

Every day was filled with stares and whispers. There was no way she could escape it, the hatred and the shunning would continue her entire life. But instead of being beaten down by the circle of fury surrounding her, she grew up willful and rebellious. She was determined that a people so hateful and terrible could not have been right about her parents. She was determined that her parents were blameless; their murders the result of the prejudice and fury of the people. And she was determined to do exactly what they did not want.

She dug farther and farther into her human side, reading further and further into their history, their ways, their traditions, and fighting to appear as human as possible to everyone around her. As she hoped, this infuriated the Romulans; they had given her a second chance, and she was trying her hardest to mock them. Their anger grew, ready to explode. Later, she married a Romulan, but only because she fell in love with one, for no one could force her in love. Three years later, she gave birth to a daughter whom she named Tina. The human name given the child infuriated the nation once again, but the birth of the second child was what finally dropped the blade. Five years after the birth of her first child, this half-Romulan mutt proudly named her son Trian after her traitorous father. The people could stand no more. Their blood boiling, hoards of rioting Romulans attacked the home of the rebellious hybrid, and finally had their own justice as they killed the only offspring of the fallen idol with their own hands. Her husband was left with his two children to morn the death of his wife.

Trian grew to the age of six with a father, and yet, without a father. He was a broken man, he loved his wife passionately no matter what her reputation. Her death stole the life from him as well, and he left his children to joined the army. Tina and Trian grew up poor, with one nurse to raise them in their father's absence. Like their mother, they grew up in the shadow of their parents' and grandparents' actions. They had no one to turn to but each other. They clung to each other, comforted each other, cried with each other. And in both, a little bit of their mother lived, a little bit of her rebellion and a little bit of her human side.

The crisis came when their father was killed in action. The Romulan nation was not a forgiving place and, not able to pay for the house they lived in or the nurse who had looked after them, they were thrown out. Their were no orphanages on Romulus. Those who could not pay lived harshly on the unpitying streets. And that is what they did. They went cold many nights, and hungry even more of the time. Tina was 12 years old when she had to become the leader and supporter of herself and her brother. Many times she nearly starved making sure her younger brother had enough to eat, she worked till she could hardly stand to buy the bare necessities for herself and her brother. And every day she dressed her brother and herself, and they both went to school. And every day their school-mates reminded them who they were and what they would never be. No remorse. No compassion. Cruel, harsh words. And so she was determined that they would both learn and grow up to prove they could be something. To make their hateful school-mates eat their words.

"Tina, tell me that story again, that one Mother used to tell you. That Earth story." Nine-year-old Trian whispered one night as they lay shivering in the dark alley-way.

"That one about the human slave in Rome? Spartacus?" Tina asked, hugging her brother closer as he shuddered with the cold. She fixed the blanket more securely over his head. It was shaved completely, as were the heads of many other boys his age when their mothers did not want to deal with their thick, unmanageable hair.

"Y-yeah. That one. I like that one. And tell me why he won in the end again."

Tina was glad for a way to distract her brother from their dismal surroundings. Besides, she liked this story too. It kept her motivated.

She put on her animated, story-telling voice.

"Well, on Earth, hundreds and hundreds of years ago, this kingdom called Rome ruled the world. But the Senate was full of evil, cranky old men and they made some of the poor people be slaves for no reason. While some of the lazy, fat humans sat around and did nothing, the other humans had to do all the work and they didn't get paid or anything! And sometimes, they trained the slaves (gladiators they called them) to kill each other in an arena while they watched and laughed."

Trian sucked in a breath. "Why were they so mean?" He asked.

Tina shrugged. "Mother said it gave them a thrill when life and death was on the line. They liked the suspense. They also liked to idolize whoever won. I guess people are like that. They have to have someone to worship and someone to hate just to make life interesting." Anyone could have recognized the distinctly bitter tone in her voice.

"Keep going." Trian urged when he realized his sister was getting off subject.

"Alright, alright. So Spartacus was born a slave, and a guy who trained gladiators and sold them came to see if any of the slaves working there were good enough to be bought. Well, he thought Spartacus had big enough muscles and had a mean enough attitude to be a gladiator, so he bought him. And Spartacus was trained, and he got even more muscles, and lots of fighting skills. One day, some fat Romans came to watch two of the gladiators fight to the death and Spartacus and another human were chosen. Now the two were fighting, and Spartacus started to lose because the other guy was even stronger than he was!"

Trian's eyes were wide with suspense and he gripped her arm tightly.

"The other gladiator could have killed Spartacus, but instead he turned around, jumped into the stands, and started to attack the humans that were watching and pointing at them. He never reached them because a guard near by speared him in the back."

"But why didn't the gladiator just kill Spartacus?" Trian asked, subdued, "Then he could have stayed alive."

"Because," Tina answered, "he didn't want the humans watching him to have the pleasure of watching him kill someone else. He was tired of the way the slaves and gladiators were being treated. He was so brave that he'd rather die than give them any more entertainment."

Trian nodded in agreement. "He was brave."

Tina continued, "When Spartacus saw how brave that other slave was, it inspired him to rebel too. He got all the other gladiators together, and they broke out of the prison. They went around the kingdom freeing all the slaves they could, and soon they had a huge army. Spartacus was the leader, and he trained them all to fight like he could. Then he made a plan to lead all the slaves out of Rome so they could be free. But Rome wouldn't have any of it. They were mad that a group of slaves could escape from them because that made them look weak. So they sent out a big army to fight the slaves. The army was much, much bigger, so the slaves lost. They lead the survivors away and made them slaves again, and Spartacus was crucified in front of all of them. That means they nailed his hands and feet to a cross, and let him hang there until he died."

Trian shivered, but not from the cold this time.

"The Romans did that because they wanted to make an example out of him. They wanted everyone to see that they'd beaten him. They wanted all the slaves to see that they'd lost, and make sure they would never be able to rebel again."

Trian was silent for a moment, then asked, "So why did he win, I still don't understand."

Tina smiled. It was a hard concept for even her to understand. How could someone who lost so badly be the real winner in the end?

"It's because after he died, the slaves got even more angry. Like Spartacus had been inspired by the gladiator he fought, all the slaves were inspired by Spartacus. And so they rebelled again, and this time they won. Rome did not want the story of Spartacus to be known at all, they wanted to cover it up so no one would know that the Empire could be threatened by a group of slaves, but everyone remembered the story. It was told again and again; it became a great legend. And Spartacus became known as a great hero to everyone. They remembered how he fought and died for what he knew to be right……To be remembered well…….that was the real goal. Do you understand now?"

Trian nodded slowly. "I think so."

"Good." Said Tina grinning, "Now go to sleep."

**Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek**

"Bye Liisira!" Trian yelled, waving over the top of his head to the girl walking away from him towards the other side of the Academy grounds. She turned around and waved at him back. He grinned happily and ran his hand through his thick hair. Still smiling, he turned round to make his way back home when he ran head long into his sister. They both tumbled back a little, being hit with the same amount of force. At fourteen, he was almost the same height as his sister.

"Watch it, brother." She said with mock anger. "You're going to be knocking me down soon."

Then she spotted the slight blush on his cheeks and looked around over at the girl from her brother's class walking away from them, then back at her younger brother with a knowing smile. Trian blushed again and turned his head quickly to pretend he was looking for something in his bag.

Things had changed in five years. Although the leering and whispering and teasing hadn't completely stopped, it had lessened. Those who knew them well seemed not to mention a thing about their past at all anymore. Their obedient behavior in school, their excellent grades, and their help to their classmates had, over time, had an effect on the people around them. They had found themselves gradually, although not completely, accepted. They had before been constantly monitored for any sign of rebellious or bad behavior. When none showed, and the disappointment passed, those around them seemed to forget, at least momentarily, who they were. They could talk to their teachers normally. They could walk into a room without more than a couple stares. They actually had _friends_.

But their status to the world had not changed, no matter how much their schoolmates' opinions now differed. That was something they must prove for themselves.

Tina and Trian walked back to their dorms in silence. Their sponsor had provided them with the dorm when he had paid for their five years in the academy. It had been difficult to get a sponsor because of their reputation, but their grades had been so good after graduation that a gutsy sponsor soon stepped forward. It was Tina's last year, and Trian's first in the Academy. Tina was going to graduate with all the high honors anyone could think of, and she had already set her mind on joining the military. Trian had decided as much himself. He had found that following in her footsteps was wise.

"Do you like her?" Tina asked suddenly.

"What?" Trian answered back in a high voice, blushing deeply.

"Do you like her? The girl you were waving to." She gave him a look that said _You can tell me. I'm your sister._

Trian stared down at the grass as he walked. "I guess. Yeah. She's nice."

Tina sighed.

"What?" Said Trian defensively. "You've never liked a guy before or something?" He was angry.

"Actually…….I never have liked a guy before. That's the point." She said thoughtfully.

Trian looked at her, surprised. "But.....you're nineteen."

She laughed slightly. "Yeah. I guess there's something wrong with me."

"No," Said Trian quickly. Most siblings might have been very awkward having this conversation, but not them. "You'll probably just find the right one someday, and never have to have the problem of looking at anyone else."

She nodded. "Maybe. But I don't have time to think about that right now. I need to focus. I've got to get a good start when I graduate, you know. I can't think about guys. With the plans I've got, I don't think I ever will……I've got to prove--." She didn't finish the sentence.

A silence past.

Tina opened her mouth to say something else, but then closed it again. Then she opened her mouth again and this time said, "If I ever get married, it will only be for the deepest, strongest kind of love. Nothing else will ever persuade me to do it. Not money, or power, or even honor. If I ever get married, you'll know it was only for love."

This statement burned into Trian's mind. He wished he could be as firm and certain as his sister. From then on he would strive to be.

This was something he would never forget.

"Live well. It is the greatest revenge."

-The Talmud

**Hey guys. Sorry if you're disappointed not having a new chapter yet, but I got this mini-side-story in my head, and I couldn't continue the rest of the story until I'd written this. I thought it was just a nice little look into Trian and his sister's past and their character. Because even bad guys have their reasons. Hope you liked it. New chapter coming soon. \\//**


	12. Chapter 11

The Lines Between: Chapter 11

By Delmantheevil

Anyone who knew Scotty well, knew that he loved engineering. Anyone who knew Scotty _very_ well, knew that he loved the Enterprise even better.

When he found company forced upon him, he really didn't mind sitting down to chat, or having a drink with some mates. But if the choice was left up to him, he would much prefer all his time occupied in looking after his darling.

Some had called him obsessed. Maybe he was, who could really be the judge? At the Academy, his professors dismissed him angrily when they found him distracted from their lessons, too experimental in his projects, and, overall, too critical of their teachings. He disagreed with many of their theories, formulas, and techniques, and swore to prove them wrong and his own correct.

When he had graduated and come into the service after years of struggling and barely passing in the Academy, Starfleet slowly began to see his talent for what it really was. His techniques were certainly unorthodox, but they worked. They worked, and that was all Starfleet really cared about.

And that was all James Kirk really cared about. The Captain viewed his skills as a blessing sent from above; was this man truly a mere mortal? He had let Scotty expand in his work as no one else had. After all, the broken protocol was far out-shone by the massive successes, and Scotty's reputation grew along with his work. He was now known by some to be a genius. And maybe he was, who could really be the judge?

He never in his life felt a desire to jump up to the rank of captain or higher; it never had a draw to him. He liked where he was, and what he did. Why should he leave the place where he thrived? And that place was Chief Engineer aboard the Enterprise.

The day he had stepped onto the Enterprise, he didn't know he had just boarded his destiny. He felt honored to have gotten so far, and anticipated getting his hands on some new, shiny technology. But the moment he entered Engineering, he fell in love. Everything about her called to him. This had, naturally, become the object of many snickers and suggestive jokes from the rest of the crew, but Scotty didn't mind in the slightest. The way his work called to him was the way art calls to an artist.

And he just happened to be Michelangelo.

She moved, she breathed. She was powerful and sturdy, yet she had little parts too, that the whole depended upon just as much, and he understood exactly how vital they were. Scotty wasn't like other engineers, brain crammed with formulas and information, programmed to read the engines mechanically like a robot. No. He saw the beauty in things others didn't spare a second glance. He felt and he understood this ship as naturally as he breathed. Yes, he was satisfied with where he was.

Anyone who knew Scotty well, knew that he was a resourceful man. He didn't have much outside of his engineering skills, and, although his leadership skills were tolerable, he preferred to stick to what he loved and shined in. But when he was forced into a situation where he must take the commanding position, he made the most out of what he knew he could do.

Now was one of those times.

He knew from the moment the Captain had transferred the load of leader from his own shoulders to Scotty's, that this was going to be one of those times. He knew the Captain was quite as passionate as he was when it came to commanding his ship, and so he surmised the situation to be critical. He didn't know what was going on in that Romulan ship that was now holding his Captain and their First Officer captive, but he did know what condition the Enterprise was in, he did know what she could do, and he also had a vague idea, just by looking, of what those enemy ships were capable of.

A quick, quiet consideration, and he knew exactly what condition the Enterprise needed to be in to escape the Romulans with minimal damages. He had calculated the time their repairs would take with their skimpy Engineering team, and found it to be completely unacceptable by all standards; even when he counted his own super-human skill. His two commanding officers would no doubt be dead long before they were finished, and then their struggles would have been in vain, for he in no way intended to leave them both in the hands of their enemies as he had been ordered to do.

His brain whirring, the weight of responsibility for his friends and crew on his shoulders, he had come up with an….original plan. He had never been one for tradition. Or rules, really. Although he didn't much like the idea of his baby in the hands of unexperienced, unrefined amateurs, he knew the only way the ship was going to be ready in time, was if everyone aboard, with an acceptable amount of experience, pitched in and worked to get it done. The thought of all those foreign hands in his territory still made him shudder, but he swallowed it down and continued on with what he knew to be the only way out.

Because anyone who knew Scotty well knew that he would throw all that he loved away for his friends and to do what was right.

He had it all mapped out in his brain, and if all went according to schedule….well, they would see if it worked.

He'd marched down to Engineering directly after his announcement and after he'd coaxed the sour Doctor off of the Bridge, and there had found a considerable amount of the crew crowded into the chambers, some looking confused, some irritated, and others downright frightened. He first commenced to ask anyone who _truthfully_ thought they would be more trouble than help, to please leave and find something else they can be useful at. A few left (mostly, he noticed, the frightened-looking ones.).

To the rest of them, he explained all that he could afford to spend time on, the basics and the necessaries of his plan. He then ordered them into groups, organized by skill and experience, then sub-groups of varying areas of knowledge. He then instructed them on their jobs, some to assist in the actual labour, others to over-see and give orders, others to check the work, and others to transport tools to the workers. Most of the over-seers were members of his own Engineering team, who knew Scotty's intentions and could well be counted on to keep the work moving along when Scotty had to leave.

All of this seemed to take less time than he had expected it to, for the crew seemed more focused and determined than ever before, a huge change from the flurry of chaos the ship had been only hours earlier.

When he felt, finally, that everyone was in working-order, and was confident that progress was being made, he left the busy workers to go to the Bridge for report and to further perfect his plan, telling his team to call him if anything needing his particular attention occurred, and also to keep him updated on their progress.

"Uhura, any luck with contactin' Starfleet?" Scotty asked the moment he entered the Bridge.

"No, sir." Uhura answered, her head bent low over her station, alert for any signals. "They're still jamming us."

He wasn't surprised.

The rest of the Bridge Crew, he noticed, was glancing sideways at him in a scared-rabbit way. They all seemed very wound up and jumpy.

He looked up at the viewscreen. The vessel they had injured earlier had moved alongside the other ship, not the flagship, for assistance of some kind. Perhaps injuries or repairs. He studied them for a moment, eyes darting back and forth between the two. He wondered what on earth a supply and mining ship were doing in a battle. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage-

"Excuse me, sir." Said Chekov suddenly, breaking Scotty out of his revere. "But sir, what--what are we doing?"

Heads swiveled around, the faces on them alert and eager to hear what was going to be said. It dawned on Scotty how in the black they still were. Nobody was just going to magically understood what he was scheming. No doubt at this point they were all thoroughly confused. They needed, he remembered, to work together, combining all their skills to get out of this situation, and how could they do that if they had no idea what they were doing? How odd. He was so used to working on his own.

He cleared his throat. How he hated making speeches.

"I s'pose ye all don't really know what's going on. Well, I'll explain it to ye. As ye know, the Captain and Mr. Spock have been taken captive by the Romulans and, before they left, ordered us to repair quick as possible and get straight out of here 'n back to Star Fleet. Well, obviously we're not doin' _that, _so I come up with a plan to get 'em back."

A few nervous smiles cracked throughout the sea of faces, and all leaned forward to listen intently.

"We ain't gonna do anythin' fancy, not in this condition. All we're shooting for is an escape with a few scratches. We're not chargin' out to blow up all the Romies, no, we don't have the time nor the resources for tha'. What we _will_ do is get out alive, though. And how do we do that? Well lads, we got to be able to _move_, first."

"Is that why you sent all those people down to Engineering?" Mr. Binns piped up. "To repair the warp engines?"

Scotty nodded. "Makin' a run for it is our best bet at this point, and practically the whole crew's down there workin' gettin' us up an' movin' now."

"But how are we going to get the Captain and Mr. Spock back?" Sulu asked.

"I was comin' to that next. As soon as we have warp, we lock onto them with the transporter, should be easy seein' as they're the only human and Vulcan aboard, but we don't beam them over yet or they'll know we did it an' attack. Because we need that element of surprise, we only got one shot an' if we blow it, we blow our cover and we blow the Captain's chance."

Most of the Bridge nodded in agreement while completely unaware of their actions, transfixed, and hanging on to his every word.

"The phaser banks weren't as badly injured as the warp engines, so they'll be done first, but we can't do much with it until we have more than impulse power. The Warbird seems to be the only ship of the three who'd be able to keep up with us when we turn tail, so we put all our power into one cripplin' shot at em', and the moment we do, beam the Captain back over here. With them distracted an' flailing, we gun for it."

The Bridge absorbed this new information in silence, mulling it over and engraving it into their brains.

"What eef we miss?" Chekov asked quietly.

Scotty grimaced then caught himself. The whole Bridge was watching him closely, monitoring his expression. He realized that now he should probably say something that was going to motivate and encourage them. He wasn't cut out for this.

He smiled confidently.

"We just won't miss, now, will we lads? This is the Enterprise, after all, miracles happen on this ship."

**I know what you're thinking, "Man, I waited all that time for this load of…" but the boring parts are there to make room for more action, honest. Working on the next chappy, pretty good idea how it's going to go. Have an awesome week, everybody! \\//**


	13. Chapter 12

The Lines Between: Chapter 12

By Delmantheevil

Trian had disappeared at some point after making some significant motion to two guards who were standing behind them, and who promptly dragged their captors off through the crowd of soldiers and into another chamber. It was dark and musty inside with a labyrinth of rusty, suspended walkways hanging over their heads like bridges. Steam emitted from broken sections of pipes running up and down the walls and drops of waste mixed with water dripped off the overpasses, hitting the floor and sending loud echoes through-out the room.

They were forced into a circle formed by towering Romulans, all holding weapons, and standing nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. The many naked blades flashing in hands and lack of gaps between guards made attempting escape an immediate death sentence. The whole room was dank and dark, but for one light shining down on them from above, illuminating the middle of the circle. Spock and Kirk stood in the middle, side-by-side, uncertain of what to do, and working to make sense of their surroundings which were not at all what they had been expecting.

Two of the guards encircling them suddenly stepped aside to make way for another Romulan officer who marched into the circle and, straightway, let the burden he had been carrying clatter to the floor. As quickly as he had come, he left, and Kirk and Spock surveyed the two instruments he had dropped. To Kirk, they appeared to be simple, short, metal pipes that had been bent weirdly out of shape. The chance for further observation was cut off, however, in the form of a voice coming eerily from high above them and echoing off the walls.

"Understand yet?"

They both whirled around, and then had to crane their necks because Trian was walking calmly across one of the rotting, metal platforms about 20 feet above them. He stopped, leaned on the railing (which Kirk expected to snap at any moment), and gazed down at them casually.

Jim only stared at the Romulan Commander, waiting for an explanation, but his First Officer seemed to understand. Kirk sensed Spock stiffen suddenly beside him, and could feel the panic rising off of him in waves, although, somehow, none of this registered on his expressionless face. He winced against the overwhelming emotions his second-in-command was emitting. Funny how he forgot he was Vulcan sometimes.

"What?" Kirk whispered urgently, wanting desperately to understand the reason for his First's distress.

Spock ignored his question and instead addressed the Romulan. Kirk was shocked at how apparent the pleading note in his voice was.

"Do not do this."

Spock had taken a entreating step forward.

Jim had never seen anything like it. It scared and angered him. He grabbed Spock's arm, the contact sending fresh waves of…….was it fear? Through him.

"What?!" It re-vibrated throughout the room. The Vulcan's projected emotions were definitely rubbing off on him.

He jerked his head back up to glare at Trian who was now chuckling down at them.

"He's a quick one, your Commander, I'll give him that. Useful to have around. I hope you've been making good use of his wits over the years, Kirk."

"Oh, I have been!" Kirk yelled back, taking two steps forward, an devilish grin plastered to his face. "He's been pretty useful reading your lot!"

The implication twisted the Commander's face into a snarl. Jim heard Spock sigh behind him.

Trian seemed to get control over himself suddenly, and he smiled serenely. "So you still haven't figured it out then." He 'tsked,' "I really don't know how you became a captain, Mr. Kirk, you must know you can't rely on your First Officer all the time."

Jim opened his mouth in angry retort, but Spock said, "Captain." warningly, and with some effort he bit his tongue. He realized he _did_ need to shut up; why was he acting this way? He was allowing Trian to get to him and nothing good would come of it. He was so easily provoked of late.

Trian surveyed them for a moment, then, deciding neither were going to rise to his bait, he continued.

"Since the Captain is so in need of an explanation, I shall give him one as well as explain the…..shall we call them 'rules'? to this game."

Kirk stepped back next to Spock, and noticed the Vulcan's eyes were darting subtly around the room, searching for something or checking for a weakness of some kind. You could almost hear his brain working at lightning. Trian noticed this but did not seem worried.

"You know of the Romans, I suppose, Captain Kirk? I assume you have in studying Earth's history. A great nation, but cruel and selfish."

Jim had to work **very** hard not yell out that it sounded like Trian was describing his own nation minus the great part.

Trian kept talking. "The Ancient Romans once held an event called "The Gladiatorial Games," in which two trained men were forced into an arena to fight to the death, all for the sake of entertainment. As a child growing up I could not fathom why they would do something like that, but now………I think I understand."

All humor drained as comprehension registered on Kirk's face. He looked down at the two objects at their feet to realized they were not bent pipes as he had thought they were. They were swords; ugly, rusty, and distorted. Hardly fit to be called weapons.

More realization kicked in. The circle of Romulans. The spotlight shining down on them…..They were in an arena, and he and Spock were gladiators.

For a moment panic enveloped him, but then these thoughts eased his mind: Even if his own life was forfeit, he would never willingly kill Spock. And Spock would never willingly kill him. So they could not be forced to kill each other for Trian's amusement. Not if both refused to fight. It would be much better to refuse to fight and both be killed. Because honestly, the prospect of having to fight and kill one of his own men was much worse than simple death. At least he would die with a clear conscious and even feel like he had beat Trian in one aspect.

"I know what you're thinking." Said Train sadly, "But I'm afraid, Captain, that it will not be that simple. You see, in this game, death is the easy way out. Because the last one left standing will be tortured," He paused, "rather badly."

Things suddenly clicked into place. He knew where this was taking them.

Of course. Of course. Why hadn't he seen it before? He should have known there would be some trick to it. Some evil trick.

The air was really thick in this room wasn't it? Hard to breathe, and it was pressing down on him, threatening to smother him. It was cold, too. Unreality. That was the only word to describe what he was feeling. What he thought was happening could not be happening. As a numb sensation settled in he suddenly comprehended Spock's wild response. This was…….beyond cruel.

Trian looked pleased with the effect his words were having.

"A long and painful death awaits the winner." He observed their expression. "But you can mercifully provide a swift, almost painless death to your friend. Do the honorable thing and take the torture yourself."

He was taking meticulous care not to specify who he was talking to. "Whomever it may be is your choice, but you decide to yourself, for speech is banned in this arena."

Kirk's brain was whirring, searching for a way out, but the moment he had found one, Trian cut it off.

"And there will be no cheating; if one of you kills the other and then yourself or if you both die at your own hand, or refuse to fight, I will fire on your ship," He motioned, emphasizing that the Enterprise was still within range, "and this time I will show no mercy. One of you must survive."

Kirk struggled to gather his thoughts but his mind was reeling. No loopholes. He had to kill Spock and take the torture himself or be killed and let Spock take the agony instead. There was no right answer. No right way out.

Trian smiled leisurely.

"May the lucky one die."

**Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek Trek**

Scotty stared out the viewscreen into the stars, and considered the Warship hovering peacefully, harmlessly in front on him. The vessel was so relaxed, so serene that no one ever could have guessed the turmoil within it.

It was exactly how Scotty felt right now. On the outside, calm and confident, on the inside, cussing, sweating, and straining. He wouldn't doubt that he was also experiencing accelerated aging.

His poker face had never been all that great, but he had never needed it more. He had to appear to the crew as if he had a genius plan and it was working right on schedule so they could continue to work as fast and as self-assuredly as possible.

Because his _real_ plan was spiraling miserably out of control.

The repair crew had discovered more problems with the engines than they had originally thought, piling on more work, wasting more _precious_ time. And while they had made excellent progress with fixing-up the phaser banks which were now almost ready for use, what good would they do them if they had no way to _get out_?

These thoughts conflicted within him as he struggled to piece together a new plan. But he couldn't. They all involved the use of the engines; there was no way they could take out three ships at the same time without sustaining more damage, and if they did it was game over.

He had shared this burden with no one else. The rest of the crew thought they were on the fast track to saving the Captain and themselves. How was he going to tell them? _Sorry lads, I was wrong, we're not gettin' _this_ done 'til at least next week. Woops. Sorry fer gettin' yer hopes up._

He struggled not to sigh his frustration. They didn't have much time left. He could feel it. He could just sense that even if they did get the engine fixed in a few hours, they would be beaming back two dead bodies. He couldn't let that happen. But he couldn't risk the entire ship by beaming them back _now_ while they were dead and defenseless in space.

He ground his teeth together. Those calm ships in front of him were driving him nuts. What was going on _inside_? He wondered again what those non-military vessels were doing in a fight. A mining ship and a supply ship………honestly, what good good could they do in battle? Not that he was too worried about it, in fact it gave them a much better chance than if all the ships were built for war. But he couldn't get over the stupidity of it, what was the purpose behind it? A mining ship could just…..mine, and a supply ship could just……ship things.

Something suddenly sparked inside of him. A curiosity or a kind of sixth sense he had when he just _felt_ he should investigate further into something, look a little closer at some detail.

He turned.

"Mr. Sulu, what kind of supply ship would ye say that is?"

Sulu squinted hard at the screen, studied it for a moment, then said hesitantly:

"I think it's a model used by their military, sir. I remember studying them in the Academy. They're the kind that ship weapons, armor, and other supplies to their army….but I can't be sure."

Scotty gazed at the ship for a moment and chewed his lip.

He turned back to Sulu and Chekov again.

"Scan the cargo hold on the supply ship. See if you can get visual _inside_ the hold."

They looked at him curiously but did as they were told.

"Scanning."

Silence as they worked, then-

"We can only get 15% visual for you sir, you won't be able to make anything out."

Scotty nodded. "Any life forms in the hold?"

"Negatiff, sir." Said Chekov.

Scotty grimaced. "I'm beamin' over to take a look around. I've got a feelin' about this, and they're distracted so they won't notice one extra crewman aboard-."

"But sir!" Uhura protested. "You can't leave now! You're the Captain, we can't spare you right now."

Half the Bridge nodded in agreement. Another reason he didn't like being Captain; they never got to have any fun.

"I'll go." Sulu volunteered as he stood up. "Give me directions on what I'm looking for over the Communicator and I'll tell you what you need to know."

Scotty considered this for a moment. Then he nodded.

"Thank you Mr. Sulu. Report down to the Transporter Pad and prepare for beaming."

Five minutes later, Scotty was staring at the supply ship, Communicator tight in hand.

It bleeped on and they heard Sulu's voice.

"I'm in. They haven't seemed to notice."

Chekov scanned the ship to make sure. Indeed, no one seemed to notice the sudden addition to their ship's number at all.

"Mr. Sulu, is there any cargo in the hold at all? Are they shippin' anythin'?"

The Communicator crackled. "Yes sir, the place is jammed pack with stuff."

So this was a surprise mission they'd been sent on. Probably on there way to deliver their load but were called away in the middle.

"Can you make out what any of it is?" He asked in a whisper.

"It's…..it's a lot of crates, sir. Big, heavy duty ones, all the same except a couple." Sulu answered quietly back.

"Can ye tell what's in any of 'em? Any at all?" His heart sped up with anticipation.

"I'm not sure if I can---wait, this one's partly open, if I can--."

There was a scuffling sound, a heaving, then a scraping noise and Sulu's voice came again.

"I've got one open." He said, sounding winded. "It looks like….." He paused, then gasped. "Sir! These crates--these crates are packed with explosives!"

Scotty allowed himself a triumphant grin. This was just the chance he'd been hoping for.

"Yes, yes, I think there's something like the Romulan equivalent of "handle with care" written on the the top of the box, but….I can't read Romulan…" Sulu said uncertainly.

But Scotty didn't need to know any more details. His new plan was set. They were back in the game. He wasn't as skilled at gambling and bluffing as Captain Kirk, but he was willing to try his hand.

He opened a channel to the Transportation Room.

"Beam Mr. Sulu back immediately." He switched the channel over to Engineering. Mr. Galvez answered.

"Galvez, when will we have phasers ready?"

**The day of this chapter's posting is also my birthday, so please make my day that much better by reviewing! Thinkin' of you guys on my b-day! \\//**


	14. Chapter 13

The Lines Between: Chapter 13

By Delmantheevil

There was a certain _look_ that was quite notorious for running in the Kirk family. A passionate, stubborn expression that represented a will as unbending as steel. It had passed down from generation to generation of Kirks and was present on almost each and every one of their faces, both male and female, at some point in their lives. At this moment in time, the rebellious, inflexible, oh-so-familiar demeanor was occupying the person of one 9-year-old James T. Kirk, who was, perhaps, the only Kirk that ever walked the planet earth to wear the expression so frequently. The only difference was, on this particular day, the scowl was directed at his own father, George Kirk.

Young Jim Kirk had a great amount of respect for his father, he was smart, hard-working, and, of course, a Starship Captain. Yes, he respected him very much. One might wonder how these two family members became involved in their sorry predicament.

It started early in the afternoon when Jimmy was home alone. Mom and Dad at work, Sam off doing his summer session classes for overachievers (Jim liked his brother but he was SUCH a girl), and he was left on his own to roam the house. There was a rule during this hour and a half space in which he was left alone that he was not to leave the property. It was rather large so this rule did not usually bother him, but today he had, for some reason or other, a feeling that the farthest boundaries of their yard were much, much too small a space, and the three foot high wire fence was nothing less than towering prison walls, keeping him chained and confined. He couldn't stand the limitation and restriction of it all, and, as the day progressed, still could not shake the feeling of claustrophobia off.

Then his cheap, banged up little communicator he carried with him everywhere beeped weakly in his torn jeans pocket. It could only mean one thing: his friend Todd Binny was calling him. He answered, expecting the forlorn complaints of another trapped boy eager to vent the frustrations of his tragic circumstances on an understanding subject, but time seemed to speed up as, instead, Todd was yelling at him in a frantic voice to come down to the lake as quick as possible: there was an emergency. But then Todd's voice cut out as his communicator crackled and died, leaving poor Jimmy with visions of 12-foot-long rabid alligators and poisonous sea snakes flashing through his mind.

He dropped the communicator into the dry grass, and gunned for the house, adrenaline pounding, overwhelmed with a sense of anxious fear and heroic intent. He threw open the garage and quickly realized the fastest way to the lake would be to hijack his elder brother's birthday present. Jimmy knew that Sam might be angry about his younger brother borrowing his brand new speeder without asking permission, but he didn't have any other options available; he was running out of time, and he was sure Sam would understand after he found out it was an emergency.

Jimmy knew how to start the engine up, but had never been gifted at driving or flying anything, especially when trying to learn the controls at the same time. He made good time until he crashed the speeder into one of the trees surrounding the lake, ended up running the rest of the way, tripping three times, scraping his elbow and tearing his jeans (again), arriving flushed and panting only to find that the "emergency" had been his trio of friends finally completing the raft they'd been working on for the better half of the last five weeks.

He was angry, certainly, from the scare they'd given him but was soon distracted by the new addition to their hide out, and how well it floated, and how fun it would be to go swimming and jump off of it, because, after all, it was _so_ hot outside. Time simply lost meaning.

Until his Dad showed up.

The moment he saw his father walking towards him silently, an unreadable look on his face, Jimmy new he was in enormous trouble. His stomach immediately tightened with nervous terror and the sudden awareness of the time and his circumstances caused him to freeze in his tracks. His father said nothing as he stepped past his now quiet, wary friends, grabbed Jim by the back of the shirt, and started walking at a swift pace back through the woods with Jimmy in tow. Not a word was uttered from either father or son as Jim stumbled along, struggling to keep up with his father's long, quick stride.

His face burned with embarrassment and shame of being yanked away by his father in front of all his friends.

He could see the sun beginning to set and knew his parents and brother must have been looking everywhere for him. Gauging his father's expression and behavior, he was in for an enormous whipping. He wasn't afraid of whippings, but guilt began to consume him as they stopped, not at home, but at the tree where Sam's new speeder lay in smoking ruins and his brother stood staring blankly down at his wrecked treasure.

Yelling ensued. Not from his brother (who was still in shock) but from his father. His behavior was inexcusable, he had stolen and destroyed his brother's property, he had abused his parents' trust, he had broken the rules, he had worried them all sick, and his parents were fed up with his behavior and very, very disappointed with him.

And that's when Jim got the look.

The shame of being embarrassed in front of his friends, the shame of his parents' disappointment, and the shame of his own actions stirred up hurt pride and a bruised ego, and turned into rebellion. It wasn't his fault. _He'd_ thought there had been an emergency, _he'd_ only wanted to help, _he'd_ only lost track of time, it wasn't _his_ fault and he would _not_ apologize for a series of events that were completely accidental.

He was being completely unfair, of course. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was quite aware of it. He was sorry that he'd destroyed his brother's speeder, and underneath he knew it had been wrong of him to leave the house without finding out more information first, but his stinging pride and stubbornness was getting in the way.

His father saw the look and sighed, pulling a hand through his hair. He took off his belt and held it in a loop the way he always did before administrating a spanking. Then he looked Jim straight in the eye and told him something.

"Jimmy, I've tried hard to show you that if you make the wrong choices there are consequences, but my punishment methods don't seem to be working on you. So, this time, I hope you'll be able to understand a little better what I've been trying to teach you; that the choices you make don't just affect you, but everybody."

Then his father did something he would never forget. With a somber look on his face, he called his brother Sam over, took him by the shoulders, and explained to him that because Jim had misbehaved, because he had broken his speeder and broken the rules, he, Sam, would have to receive Jim's punishment.

Sam was quiet as he listened, then slowly he nodded his understanding and, wearing a hauntingly pained but resolved expression that burned into Jim's memory forever, turned to take his brother's punishment without even a single complaint.

Jim was shocked. He couldn't believe it. He didn't believe it. He didn't believe it until half way through the whipping, Sam cried out in pain.

The sound jerked the pride, the stubbornness, the rebellion right out of him in one swift, horrible motion. Jim's resolve completely melted into a puddle of anguished guilt and remorse. He was suddenly crying and apologizing again and again while pleading his Dad to stop, please stop. But the punishment continued until the full price was paid for the crime, and by the end Jim was howling and still apologizing over and over as he hugged his brother.

This new punishment had hurt him more than any spanking ever could. He was at fault not only for destroying his brother's speeder and scaring his family, but he was directly responsible for Sam getting hurt. His brother had done nothing. His brother had selflessly taken the punishment for _his_ actions. His brother had been in pain and it was completely and totally _his_ fault.

Just as his father had intended, Jimmy Kirk realized that day that his actions not only had an affect on him, but on everyone else as well. The people he cared about. If he had any reason at all to control his actions, it was to protect the people around him. He realized that if the people around him got hurt because of him it was much worse than any other punishment he could imagine. He never wanted to see anyone he cared about get hurt because of him ever again. That was punishment he could not stand.

Without realizing it, young James T. Kirk learned a lesson that would impact his future as a person, friend, and captain and ultimately shape his life. It changed the way he thought and acted. The way he commanded his ship. And now, 26 years in the future, this simple, childhood lesson was aiding him in making what was, perhaps, the most difficult, and very likely last, decision of his life. Because now, Jim put his crew's needs before his own without thinking about it. He didn't have to recall that incident years ago for motivation, because he had remembered it so many times and applied it to so many situations that now it was nothing short of second nature to him. And at this moment he knows exactly what he needs to do. He knows what his duty is.

He'll kill Spock because he cannot die knowing his friend is getting tortured because of him. He is the captain, he makes the decisions, and any situation they may be in is a direct result of his choices, and therefore his responsibility. He won't take the easy way out. He can't. He'll take the pain. Both the physical pain and the pain of knowing he has killed one of the best friends he's ever had the misfortune to meet. Because it's his duty. And because he owes Spock that much.

And if Spock fights back? He won't allow that. Trian wants it. He wants their friendship to be torn apart at the very end. He knows in a fight, Spock would win. He knows Spock has the advantage. He wants Spock to disobey his captain, kill him, and then bare all the suffering he bore when his sister died. But Kirk will not allow him the satisfaction. He'll do whatever he has to do to win. He knows he can do it, after all. He's always known what to say and do to push Spock's buttons. Knows the right nerves to hit to get him to do exactly what he wants. He's done it before, he can do it again.

Besides, he thinks, Spock won't fight back. If he orders Spock to stand down and let him kill him, he'll do it. Because Spock always puts his duty first as well. Before personal needs. Before friendship. Kirk's thoughts are somehow laced with bitterness. No, Spock won't disobey him.

He straightens up. His mind is set. He knows what he has to do. Thank god Vulcans are touch telepaths.

He concentrates. Lets thoughts rise to the surface of his mind. His hand reaches out and just barely grazes Spock's, an action that goes unnoticed by the surrounding Romulans. Spock jumps, slightly because of the sudden physical contact, but mostly because of the strands of thought, not his own, that are entering his mind.

_Stand down, Mr. Spock. That's an order._

**Hey guys. Long time, no update. Sometimes you just gotta wait for inspiration, or else your writing sucks. Oh, by the way, if you don't already watch this tv show 'Fringe,' then do it. It's amazing. Review if you like the chapter. Live long and prosper \\/**

**Sweetest thing ever. Spock's Theme: .com/watch?v=TNgcm6xjZo0**


	15. Chapter 14

The Lines Between: Chapter 14

By Delmantheevil

As much as Vulcans would love to deny it, there was no ignoring the fact that they did, indeed, feel emotion. In a way, they felt it even more strongly than humans. Long ago, this was their downfall. Raw, powerful emotions ran rampant amongst them, controlling them, compelling them, ruining them, until the day when a solution to their problem was discovered. Control. Discipline. Detachment. The controlling of emotion became the centermost concern of their culture as the decades progressed. For them, it was salvation from the thing that was destroying them, for they could see from their history the horrors loss of control and emotional attachment could cause. This practice of suppression, however, did not dim the flare of what a Vulcan could feel emotionally.

They never allowed it to show, for they were masters of control, neither did they let it effect their choices. But they did feel. From childhood they trained their minds to master the ability of keeping their emotions completely detached; to make their choices without a single interference. When a Vulcan assesses a situation, they do not let their emotion affect their decision, and so the answer comes speedily and logically before them without interference or distraction.

Indecision, therefore, was one feeling amongst Vulcans that was virtually unheard of.

Vulcans never experience indecision; cold logic is used to produce an answer. It's right or it's wrong. No in between. They find such a solution and carry it out without questions. Emotions play no part.

This applied to Spock as well. Not unlike any other Vulcan child, Spock was brought up under the same rules and the same teachings. And yet, once again, he is feeling that dreaded unfamiliarity of a foreign emotion that he has felt so many times before in his interactions with humans. This time it is for the conflict he's feeling. In a way he has felt the same many times before, as if he's being ripped to pieces by the two conflicting natures he possesses; his human convulsive nature, and his logical Vulcan instinct. Both unable to cooperate with one another, never able to find unity in their complete opposites, yet trapped in one place together for eternity, raging a never-ending war, constantly fighting to tear him in two with their equally demanding and yet sensible differences.

And yet, the feeling of conflict is so unfamiliar. He is always able to find a right answer. This situation has none. Indeed, it seemed to have no answer answer at all, and yet it demanded one. Again the two instincts rear up like enormous waves ready to push and shove each other until one wins his compliance, or like so many times before, swallows him up and smothers him in havoc of the battle.

Both answers led to destruction. Both answers hurt him. Logic or emotion? Obey the orders and let your Captain and friend die a gruesome death or disobey, let your emotions take over and show how much Jim Kirk's friendship has meant to you by sparing him the agony.

The first is purely logic. Kirk is the Captain, he is the First Officer. He follows his superior's orders no matter what the reason or cause. It makes perfect sense, it gives Trian no pleasure, it ensures the safety of the ship.

The latter: Disobey. Kill your own Captain and friend, gamble the safety of the ship by risking both getting killed, and, if all goes well, die a sticky, painful death at the hands of the man whose sister you shamed and guilted into suicide. There is no appeal, no _sense_ in the idea. The most logical decision lies before him.

So why can't he just do it? He can't brush the feeling away, the moment Jim's thoughts had entered his mind, he can't bring himself to make the choice he knows he should.

_Stand down, Mr. Spock. That's an order. _

The words echo and resound through his brain. The words themselves have no emotion in them. But they spark a thought in him. He has only seen his Captain become this cold, emotionless machine when he is forced to make the hardest, most heartbreaking of decisions. Is it the same case now? Or is the decision easy for him? Just another duty to be performed honorably as a Starship Captain should? Is he misreading what his eyes are seeing? Is he imagining things? Or is he just _that_ incapable of understanding human emotion?

He knows what transpired the last time he let his emotions guide him. He had failed; he doesn't know what emotion is, he doesn't know how to control it, he had been like a cripple man trying to tight-rope walk.

And yet he still cannot suppress the draw that is telling him he needs to do the right thing, not the logical thing. But is it really the right thing?

His mind is in a fog. He hardly notices as rough hands grabbed his shoulders, forcing him forward, then swiveling him around to face his opponent. His mind is chanting at him.

_You're going to die any ways, put away the logic for once, follow your indistinct, show how much this friendship has meant to you, show your loyalty in more than just following orders, he may not like it, but he would, he is, doing the same thing for you._

He vaguely notices the twisted sword in his hand.

_You'll be dead soon any ways_.

Kirk's eyes are fixing him in a paralyzing and forbidding glare, like he knows what Spock is thinking.

_Put away logic for once_.

Someone shouts what he guesses is the signal to the start of the fight.

_Show your true loyalty_.

Kirk is circling, looking for the best and easiest approach to kill him. He just stands there, sword dangling at his side, posture perfect as always, war waging behind his blank face.

_He may not like it_…..

Kirk is charging, determination to end it quickly etched on his face.

…._but he would do the same thing for you_.

He ducks.

It's unexpected. The power of the blow that would have struck is so great that Kirk goes flying.

He somehow manages to stay on his feet, but he skids forward, unable to stop, and stumbles, falling against the armored chestplate of one of the Romulan soldiers surrounding them. The guard pushes Kirk back and snarls.

The opponents' eyes meet. There's no shock or surprise in Jim's eyes from Spock's disobedience, just anger and determination.

Spock stands there for the second time, only feet from where he was before, unsure of how or why he moved. He hasn't made his decision yet. He needs more time. But he's out.

Kirk tries again. This time it's a less obvious attack, going for a tackle, but Spock sees it coming and steps easily out of the way again.

He's is not fighting back. He doesn't know why he can't bring his body to obey, but Kirk's anger grows with every blow Spock blocks.

Kirk's attacks are extremely aggressive, it makes them easy to read but hard to avoid.

He smashes down on Spock's sword with such an incredible amount of force that Spock's arm and hand go weak from the vibrations, Kirk senses the opening and grabs the same wrist, then jams his foot straight into Spock's ankle. Bending Spock's weak the arm back, he attempts to upset the First Officer's balance.

But Spock was raised in the Vulcan way, much of his time had been spent learning the different martial arts and self-defense techniques of their people. They all involved the importance of balance. If you control your opponent's balance, you don't have to fight. No exertion is needed when a simple twist does as much damage as a blow.

His body reacts naturally.

Kirk has made himself vulnerable while trying to topple him. He has put his own balance into jeopardy by placing his foot at that angle.

Spock turns the hold around to his own advantage easily, and with a simple twist Kirk is on the floor face-up, one arm locked behind his back, his shoulder pressed hard hard into the ground by his First Officer's foot. Spock's hand holds his other arm captive by the wrist, Kirk's sword still grasped uselessly in his hand. Jim's face is red with effort and fury, and words that are not his own are forced into Spock's mind through their physical contact.

_Let go._

Spock's head jerks up at the foreign words.

_We've gone through this before, we both know what happened the last time you questioned my command. I gave you an order, Commander, now obey it. I am your Captain. Let. Go. _

Spock is reminded, suddenly, of a similar scene. Of him, of his orders, and disregarding them just for a moment, of him reacting emotionally without even realizing it. Of almost blowing their covering. Of almost blowing their entire mission because he decided to trust his emotions for a second. Because he decided to follow his emotional instincts.

He hadn't even realized his emotional side was taking control.

His grip loosens.

It's all Kirk needs.

He ferociously tears his arm free of Spock's hold, and the sword comes up and around, headed straight for the Vulcan's gut. If Spock had been fully human, he would have been dead. But pure indistinct and faster reflexes save him as his body to reacts before his mind even registers what's happening. His upper-body shifts and the blade grazes off his side, shredding the bottom of his shirt open and sprinkling it with minuscule drops of green.

The injury is not vital; hardly note-worthy in fact, but it distracts the First Officer just long enough for Kirk to jerk free the arm trapped behind him and grab the foot that is pinning his upper body to the ground with both his hands, shoving it off. Using this leverage he hooks his other leg around Spock's ankle, rolls, and this time successfully brings Spock crashing down next to him. Spock responds before he even hits the floor. He turns midair, and Kirk, who still has a vice-like grip on his ankle, determined to keep a hold on the commander, is jerked forward and flipped onto his back. While his legs were left free, his hands are trapped under Spock's boot, arms stretched uncomfortably high and at an odd angle above his head.

The captain doesn't even grimace from the pain, he tears one hand out from under its restraint, scraping the flesh off the back of his hand as he does so. He flips back around onto his stomach, grabs the ankle that continued to ensnare his other hand, and forces it off. With both hands gripping the hilt of his weapon, he lunged forward, going for the kill, but Spock is ready for him.

Metal clangs against metal as, both on their knees, their swords collide between them. Their is a moment of silent struggle between them as they each fight to over-power the other. The world is lost to them both in that one moment; they forget where they are and who is watching them; it is a struggle of raw power between two friends turned enemies. Spock is decidedly stronger than his captain, but Kirk is able to hold his ground against Spock's lingering indecision. He's certainly not afraid to die. He knows what the most logical path is, but somehow he cannot allow himself to stop. Somehow it can't end this way. Somehow there is something that needs to be done, and if he is to die afterwards, he knows that whatever it is must be accomplished before he does or there would be no peace. The two swords quiver between them from the incredible force being exerted from both sides. A bead of sweat drips off Jim's forehead and hits the ground.

Eventually Spock's advantage begins to win out. Kirk is pushed farther and farther backward until finally he is grappling to stay upright. The struggle seems to last forever until, in a sudden flash, Spock twists his sword. Jim's blade flies upwards instead of forwards, out of control. In one last blow of precision, Spock side-swipes his opponent's weapon. Jim's sword is knocked out of his hands and flies 20 feet across the makeshift arena before it clatters to the ground. The swiftness of the motion throws the last bit of Jim's balance off, and he crashes onto his back. He struggles to roll to the side to avoid another attack, but Spock is much too fast. He has him immobilized, knees pinning down his shoulders, hand clasped down on his throat, sword pointed straight at his opponent's heart before Jim can even twitch. His palm presses hard against Jim's chin and throat, forcing his head back and leaving his neck exposed and vulnerable. He could kill him easily in any way and at any time he chooses.

But he falters.

He still does not know what to do. He has bought himself time by being nimble and avoiding all of Jim's attacks, but this is it. The sword stays fixed in midair and does not move. His hand grips Kirk's throat but not enough to choke him. A pause. He meets his captain's accusing eyes. Kirk has sensed the hesitation and jumps on the opening.

_So suddenly you're going to kill me, huh? What a _coward_. And what caused this sudden change of heart? Suddenly now at the end you decide our friendship is that important? No. No, that's not it. You don't even _know_ what you're doing. You are a coward Mr. Spock. You run. That's what you do. You can't decide where you stand, and instead of making a decision and sticking to it you choose to jump back and forth. The first moment you're the duty driven Vulcan unwilling to step a toe out of line, the next you surprise everyone by playing the hero. One day you're the logical First Officer, and the second you try to act like a _friend. _You don't even know the meaning of the word! You pretend to know how to_ feel_. _

It's a blow. Spock's grip loosens. The sword wavers ever so slightly. He is paralyzed by Kirk's words, paralyzed at their truth.

The captain's thoughts transfix him. He cannot move.

_Of course no one would ever predict the seemingly logical, dutiful First Officer of the Enterprise would disobey his Captain's orders at the very end. Gonna throw it all way, are you? Why? Feeling extra honorable today? _

The words drip with sarcasm.

_Willing to throw away your reputation to protect your captain? Thought that'd be just the ultimate act of chivalry? Well don't bother! I don't need it, I don't want it! I don't need your sympathy or your false kindness! Don't you dare take away my last orders, my last request so that you can go with a clear conscience or because you feel sorry for me! Now. Let. Go._

But somehow, in a moment so fleeting he nearly misses it, he catches another string of thought. He senses the humorless, chagrined smile of irony slip through first. Then a thought that is hardly there, buried, smothered, as if it is trying to be retained, trying not to be heard but had slipped out despite the effort, darts across the back Jim's mind, tired and despairing.

_Why can't you just trust me? After all this time, why…?_

And then he understands. He had not been wrong about their friendship. What happened on the Bridge, his captain's anger and frustration…it had not stemmed from annoyance, but instead from a feeling of lost trust. He had been mistaken. So it is true, he does misinterpret emotions. But he knows beyond a doubt he isn't and hasn't been misreading _this_. In an existence full of uncertainties, his friendship with James Kirk has been the most certain thing in his life. He realizes now that he is absolutely sure of it. He cannot look back on their time together and find even an inkling of doubt. He understands why Kirk has said the things that he has said. He's touched that Kirk would do what he's doing for him. And apologetic that he won't ever get a chance to.

Taking a deep breath and letting everything else slip away, he let's his honest, unfiltered thoughts drift through the contact to his captain.

_Jim, the fact that I will have robbed you of your last orders is unforgivable. However, sir, my duty to you as a friend will always outreach any orders I receive, any ranks that may proceed me, or any vows I have made to this service. My duty to you as a friend far overshadows my duty to you as my captain._

Jim freezes under him. He's caught completely of guard by Spock's words. He stares dumbfounded, his angry mask forgotten, at his First Officer. Spock can feel the reeling of his captain's mind, no coherent thoughts are detectable, only an array of jumbled emotions: stunned disbelief, happiness, relief, extreme anger, and resignation.

Spock finally knows what he has to do. He hopes Jim understands, but he will not stop if he doesn't. He lifts his sword. It will be fast. He feels Kirk's eyes on him, waiting for the blow to come, but doesn't try to read the emotion there.

An enormous explosion fills silence of the chamber, deafening them. With a great straining, creaking sound the room tilts. They're falling, knocked away from each other, tumbling across the floor along with the confused and outraged Romulans around them. Yells of fury, panic and the sound of collapsing metal fills the air just as they feel the familiar tingle of the transporter beam pulling them away from the pandemonium.

**Oooookay, first of all, I hope you liked it, and I hope you review, and second of all I'm sooo sorry for taking so long to update! Writers block combined with school, combined with work, combined with a couple of weddings, combined with a malfunctioning computer have kept me occupied. Anyways, thanks all of you that have been reviewing so faithfully, I really appreciate it!**


End file.
